Monogamy Rocks!
by outtabreath
Summary: Nyota decides to spice up her relationship with Spock and Gaila decides to try monogamy. Good thing they have Dr. Flenderson on their side. Flenderson-verse. Companion piece to Cattywampus.
1. Confession

I don't own Star Trek or the characters. I'm sure Daddy Gene would be horrified if he knew what I was letting his creations get up to (which means there will be sex and cursing. You have been warned).

Loads of love and thanks to my awesome (and awesomely talented) beta, miss steph (who said she likes reading my fics more than watching the movie!), and to the exceptionally talented women of Writers Anonymous: Doc, TFTSS, Kal, Nerdie, etc, and hopeful. I am truly blessed to have such an amazing support group!

This fic is a companion piece to Cattywampus.

**~*~Monogamy Rocks! by outtabreath~*~**

_**Part One of Thirteen: Confession**_

You can't base a relationship merely on how hot you think a person is (even though you should think he is hot – that is important). Try to see the real him – the person beneath the façade he presents to the rest of the world.

* * *

The instant the door chimed – before I could even admit the other person – the door slid open and my former roommate slumped into my quarters.

I'd never seen her slump before.

"Gaila?" I asked, anxiety seizing my heart; the work spread out on the table in front of me faded away.

"I just came from Sickbay," she mumbled, shuffling to the couch and throwing herself face first on it.

"What's wrong?" I demanded, abandoning the table to stumble over to the couch. I sunk to the floor beside her and wondered if patting her back would be melodramatic.

She let loose a sobbing sigh and my hand began patting.

"We'll find a cure for whatever it is," I vowed. "If McCoy can't do it alone, then I'll put Spock on it. Sure, they might kill each other – but _you'll _be okay."

"Nyoooota," she moaned, rolling onto her back – I almost lost my hand in the process – and throwing her arm over her eyes, "I'm not sick."

_Thank God._

"Then what's the matter?"

She sat up, plowing her back into the arm of my couch and I feared for its structural integrity.

"I broke his computer."

"What? Whose computer? What are you talking about? You don't break computers."

Gaila loved computers, adored them – to harm one was antithetical to everything she believed in and stood for.

"McCoy's," she whispered.

"Okay, that's not a problem – you can fix it – you can make it better, stronger, faster – you could probably program it to be a better doctor than he is."

"No one is a better doctor than he is!" she yelped.

"Okay, okay," I said soothingly. "Sorry."

She took a deep, hitching breath and caught my eyes. "If I tell you something, do you promise you won't get mad?"

I took my own deep breath. "Gaila, what did you do?"

"I broke McCoy's computer."

"Yes, you said that. Why would I be mad?"

"I did it on purpose."

My head spun - Gaila breaking a computer on purpose, it just didn't fit into my worldview.

_Have I somehow been transported to a crazy, mirror universe?_

"And there's more," she said.

"More?"

"It wasn't the first time. Are you mad?"

The mirror universe theory was starting to look more and more feasible.

"Not mad - _confused_."

She bit her lip, looked me dead in my eyes and whispered, "I'm in love with Doctor McCoy."

Definitely the mirror universe.

"No!" I yelped, my hands flying to my mouth. I'd never, ever heard her say those words about anyone. This was…huge, incredible, _unprecedented_.

"It's true and he doesn't know I'm alive." Tears – actual tears comprised of some Orion liquid – filled her eyes.

"Gaila, _c'mon_, there isn't a man on this ship that doesn't stare at you when you walk down the corridors."

"No, Ny, it is true. I've been breaking his computer to have an excuse to go see him and he acts like…" she sucked in air and her voice got watery, "I'm a bother. He yells at me."

"He yells at everyone. Spock wants to take his head off half the time, most of the crew is terrified of him and I wouldn't be at all surprised if Chapel stabs him with a scalpel one day. Scotty has a pool going for _Oekon's_ sake."

She shook her head, "Montgomery Scott is just mean. I know that it's all just a front – The Doctor is warm and wonderful, really.

"I mean, I've always liked him – you know that. He's really cute and built and he's got _those_ hands, but it's more than that. I've never…he treats me well, you know. He's nice to me…."

"You just said he yells at you."

"Pwah, he's really mad at the computer, not me."

"The computer you keep breaking."

Her lip trembled and the moisture gleamed. I patted her hand furiously. I'd never seen Gaila truly cry before and I didn't want to start now. "Sorry, sorry. Continue."

"As I was _saying_, he treats me like a person, not a sex object. I mean, when we play poker he _plays poker_ – he doesn't treat it like Kirk does – like he thinks I should be stripping off pieces of clothing when I lose a hand."

"And when does that happen?"

Gaila was an incredible poker player. Ruthless, smart and able to pick up tells within seconds.

She grinned through the tears. "Not often." Her face fell again. "That's not the _point_. He's smart, and funny, Ny, _really_ smart and _really_ funny and nice. He's nice. He respects me as a _person_ not as an _Orion_.

"And I was just stumbling along, totally oblivious to how spectacular he truly is – not even aware that I was missing out on anything. And then, his computer broke and I was sent to fix it, and we were alone in his office and it was like my whole heart just opened. My stomach got all twitchy and all I wanted to do was curl up in the extra chair and just talk to him."

"And?" I prompted, caught up in her story.

"I freaked out and left, of course. I mean, if I'd have just wanted to_ do_ him that would be okay. But…"

"This was different."

She dropped her face into her hands, "I've been crawling around on the floor of his office for two weeks, I've been leaning over him squishing all kinds of body parts against him, and he won't even look at me."

"So, you love him because he doesn't treat you like a sex object, but you're upset that he's not noticing that you're sexy?"

"That's my dilemma!" She groaned, and threw herself back on her stomach, "The first guy I've ever really, really wanted and I don't get him!"

I held my tongue, too aware of her distraught state to point out that there were lots and lots of guys she'd really, really wanted before.

And she'd gotten every single one of them. Several times.

Gently, I said, "He smiled at you at the Academy, Gaila – a real smile – an appreciative 'my God that woman is the hottest thing I've ever seen' smile and that is _not_ a man who smiles. Ever."

She flipped on her side. "Why were you looking at his smile with The Commander sweating ten feet away?"

_Damn it!_

"Never mind, the point is you were gaga over him for five minutes before you got distracted by," I took a deep breath and reminded myself that he was my captain now, "_Kirk_."

"It was stupid, I know. Think of all the time I wasted!" She sat up and grabbed my hands. "I've wasted so much time on dalliances when I could've had what you and Spock do."

_Don't look smug, don't look smug._

"I've been so busy wasting my life on meaningless relationships that I've missed out on what makes life worth living – building a life with a single person," she was saying, squeezing my hands and not even noticing that I was not looking at all smug – even though I had every right to.

"Building and creating a relationship," she was continuing, "that fits like an old, comfortable, worn-out shoe – all scuffed, the heel wearing off…. Nyota, will you _please_ think about buying some new shoes…."

"Gaila, focus, please."

"Right, right, that's not the point of this. I want with McCoy what you have with Spock – comfort and familiarity, routine and structure. Consistency. Knowing what everyday is going to bring. A relationship. You and Spock," she murmured again, her eyes going unfocused.

"Gaila?" I asked.

_Maybe there really is something wrong with her. Major personality changes and drifting off in mid-conversation are a sign of something medical, right?_

She sighed and released my numb hands. "I've been so stupid."

"No, you haven't," I said quickly.

"But Nyota, I have. Don't you see?" She jumped to her feet, almost taking my head off my shoulders in the process, and she was smiling – broadly, blindingly. "Nyota, The Steps!" She dragged me to my feet and began jumping and singing, "The Steps, The Steps, The Steps!"

"The Steps," I echoed.


	2. Consultation

Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

_**Part Two of Thirteen: Consultation**_

You should never wear old sweats stolen from your father, brother or honey, or underwear with holes and sagging elastic. Never ever. There are _no_ exceptions to this rule.

* * *

"So I was thinking of this for Step One," she said, holding up a dress that was probably illegal on twenty planets.

"Maybe you should borrow something from me."

She choked out a laugh, then took a breath. "Oh, you were serious. That's sweet. No."

"Gaila, no sex until Step Six."

She rolled her eyes and shook the dress in my direction. "The dress isn't sex, Ny."

"Yes, it is," I countered.

"I'm going to try it on," she said, spinning and hurrying to her bedroom. "Maybe you'll think differently when you see it on me."

"Can I see it on you?" I asked. "There doesn't seem to be enough fabric to be seen by Human eyes."

She grunted, then said. "Oh! I got you a gift. For your help. It's on the table."

A small rectangular object was wrapped in some glittery fabric. I wondered if she'd bought me more lingerie. It would make Spock's day.

I tore the material off and tried to wrap my mind around the object I was holding in my hands. It was a book - a real book, with ink and paper and a binding and everything. I looked at the title etched in bright red letters: _Monogamy Rocks!_ by Dr. Kelly Flenderson, Psy.D.

_Huh._

The pieces were starting to fall together.

"Do you like it?" Gaila asked, yelling from her sleeping alcove like she was on the other side of the ship.

"It's a book," I said stupidly. "About monogamy."

I flipped the book over. Kelly Flenderson was smiling up at me, her eyes bright, her face slightly lined, her hair streaked with gray.

"And how it rocks," Gaila added. "Especially when you get to do the stuff Kelly talks about in Chapter Six."

I turned to the table of contents. Chapter Six was titled "Variety is the Spice of Life."

_Oh!_

Gaila cleared her throat and said, "Steps before spice."

I looked up and took her in. "No."

"Nyota!"

"No."

"He'll know I'm a woman!"

"Because he could give you a full gynecological exam from twenty meters away. No."

She frowned at me. "I've taken two weeks to get to this point, Ny. I need to get this process moving."

"It will," I vowed. "But do the steps, take your time. Remember, the man went through a very bad divorce and, subsequently, he may be a little reluctant to jump into something. Approach him carefully, subtly."

"Like you did with Spock."

"Exactly"

"And Kelly did with her husband."

"Sure," I said, even though I completely wasn't.

"No way," she said. "I am not waiting _years_ for him. I want him now. Six Steps, five days, done."

I tried to figure out how to make her understand that things like this couldn't be rushed. They needed to grow, slowly and surely – over the course of time – weeks, months – maybe even a year….

"Do you remember the puppies my brother's beagle had when we were in Africa last year?" I asked, taking a different tack.

"Oh, they were so cute!"

"Think of McCoy as one of those puppies – he's vulnerable, but he thinks he's a _le-matya_; he's skittish, but he thinks he's not." I was warming to my metaphor, "He's a little puppy that's all teeth and paws."

"And tongue!" Gaila chirped.

"No sex until Step Six," I said, taking a deep breath. "Now, Doctor McCoy is a skittish puppy," I began again.

"Who thinks he's a _le-matya_ but is really a wing slug – except with teeth and paws," she chimed in.

"This is why things take so long with you," I protested. "Spock would let me make my argument in minutes."

"And dismantle it in seconds."

"No, he wouldn't," I protested, "Spock sees the wisdom of what I have to say."

"Because you have sex with him," she said.

"Not just because of that! Anyway, we need to talk about you. And McCoy - whose teeth are sharp and when he nips he doesn't really mean to hurt you, but sometimes he does anyway. Then there are his paws – the big, floppy paws he trips himself on while he's trying to be the master curmudgeon."

"You really don't understand the concept of metaphors, do you?" she questioned, tapping her foot. "They're supposed to make things easier to understand."

I glared, but persisted. "Gaila, I'm just saying that you can't come on too strong with a guy like that. You need to approach slowly, with your hand out and fingers curled in. Let him get used to you – let _him_ come to _you_. And, when he gets there, be gentle…."

"Rub his ears a little?"

"Lala," I said repressively.

"I mean he has nice ears – not as pointy as The Commander's, of course - but I could see the appeal of scratching him behind them a bit."

"Don't touch McCoy's ears."

"You got to kiss Spock during Step Two!"

"I was temporarily insane – and it was stupid. Remember, I was almost court-martialed."

"You were not court-martialed, and you got Vulcan tongue!"

"I did not get Vulcan tongue," I protested.

Though I had since then. A lot.

"But you got to kiss The Commander," she said. "You threw him down on his desk…."

"I didn't throw him down on his desk," I said out of habit. "Fine, you can kiss McCoy during Step Two – but no sex…."

"Until Step Six," she sighed, "Because The Doctoris a puppy who's really a wing slug that thinks it's a _le-matya_ and I shouldn't touch his ears or approach him too quickly or he'll fall over and bite himself on his floppy paws and wow, that's some mixed metaphor there. This is why you didn't get to contribute to my opera."

"I didn't _want_ to contribute to your opera."

She looked at me pityingly. "_Sure_ you didn't - denial is powerful, Nyota – it made me believe I was happy having all kinds of fun sex with random guys when what my soul was really crying out for…."

"Was a hot doctor with a beautiful smile and skillful hands."

"Exactly! And denial makes you think you didn't want to contribute to _The Hot Commander and the Lukewarm Cadet_."

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and moved the conversation along. "Go try something else – something that actually has material," I prompted.

She trudged away.

I leafed to the sixth chapter and scanned the content; it seemed that Dr. Flenderson had lots of ideas about making monogamy fun.

"I know what you're thinking," Gaila hollered. "You're thinking the only reason I want to be with The Doctor is because of the stuff in Chapter Six – but I've done it all before."

"Many times," I said back, my eyes skittering over the words. There were lots of ideas. Lots and lots.

_Maybe I should show Spock how much monogamy can_ truly _rock._

"Mean! But true. Nyota, this isn't about a book - this is about _him_."

She wasn't shouting anymore; I realized that she'd returned to the living room.

She looked gorgeous – incredible. She was wearing a skintight white cat suit that covered her from ankle to chin; not that it mattered, every outrageous curve of her body was highlighted.

_Chapel _would_ resuscitate him, right?_

"Well?" she demanded, "And before you say it, I'm completely covered up in this, Ny – seriously, it's like I'm wearing a radiation suit."

I smiled at her. "Lala, you look gorgeous. The poor man won't know what hit him."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

She clapped and did a little shimmy. "I can't wait!"

_Orion sex deities, please watch over your most beloved daughter and keep her from totally screwing this up. Amen._


	3. Dinner Theater

Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

**_Part Three of Thirteen: Dinner Theater_**

Realize that relationships are not carousels, they are roller coasters – there are long, steep climbs and dips – there are places to catch your breath and huge screaming descents. Hang on tight and enjoy the ride. ____________________________________________________________________

Pavel was still at McCoy's table. His face was bright pink and he was leaning across the table; he'd been there for a while, obviously distraught about whatever it was teenaged Russian geniuses got distraught about.

Maybe he'd discovered that Russians hadn't _really_ invented warp technology.

I glanced at the chrono on my PADD – this was getting dire. Gaila was going to be walking in the door any second and McCoy was focused on the kid.

I tried to use the power of my mind to get Pavel to move.

_Narrow eyes, breathe deeply, send waves of thought to convince the perky and pesky Russian to go somewhere else._

Obviously, my mind wasn't powerful; he wasn't budging.

"Salt, please."

I jumped and glanced at Spock; from the angle of his eyebrows it was clear that it wasn't the first time he'd asked.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Nyota, you appear to be distracted," Spock said softly. "Do you wish to speak with Doctor McCoy or Ensign Chekov?"

"What? No. Why?"

He blinked. "I ask because you have been watching them closely this evening. Do you wish to speak with one of them but are reticent to do so with the other present? I could aid you in your effort. If you wish, I could divert the attentions of the superfluous person.

I smiled warmly at him, resisting the urge to squeeze his hand. "No, I don't want or need to speak to either of them." I leaned forward and his spicy scent flooded me. I reminded myself that we didn't touch each other in public.

_Touch each other, stick our tongues down each other's throat, mount one another in the middle of the mess hall…._

I gazed at him, trying to remember what I'd been saying. "Uh….."

"Doctor McCoy and Ensign Chekov," he prompted, his eyes sparkling a little.

I narrowed my eyes at him. I think he enjoyed the fact that I could barely control myself around him most of the time.

"Gaila is….trying something," I said, "Or she plans to and…."

"One of the men seated at the table you have been observing so assiduously is the focus of this," he paused, "Plan."

I nodded.

"Which one is it?" he asked.

"Are you curious?" I replied, grinning at him.

He sat straighter and looked at me down the length of his perfect nose. "Nyota, I merely wish to support you and your friend in her efforts."

_And they say Vulcans can't lie._

"I'll let you use your superior deductive reasoning skills and power of observation to figure that out," I said.

He tipped his chin towards McCoy's table. "Very well. I look forward to the challenge."

_Maybe just a little kiss…._

"Lieutenant Gaila has arrived," he said.

I glanced at the table – Pavel was still there – then at the door.

She was wearing the jumpsuit I'd approved and she'd left her hair down. Her eyes were bright, almost hectic, and her fingers were plucking the cloth covering her legs.

I'd never seen her look anything more than completely sure of herself before.

_She really is serious about this._

"Fascinating," Spock murmured. "She appears to be anxious."

"She is," I confirmed. "This is important to her."

I caught her eye and gave her a thumbs up and she smiled, her posture relaxing.

Gaila took a deep breath and fluffed her hair – stirring up the halo of unrestrained curls needlessly – and caught McCoy's eye. She waved at him and he waved back; he looked a little shocked at his action.

I leaned forward, watching intently as Gaila sidled over and leaned down next to Pavel; the poor kid looked like he was going to have a stroke. McCoy looked...more wild-eyed than usual.

Spock shifted slightly, leaning forward, as well. "The individual she is hoping to attract is important to her." It was a statement, but there was a question in it.

"Very."

"Most peculiar. I was under the impression that Lieutenant Gaila viewed sexual relationships as disposable and interchangeable."

"Things change," I said.

"Indeed," he said. "As to the challenge you have given me, I must note that her body posture would support the theory that attracting Dr. McCoy is her goal – she is leaning with her shoulders squared with his posture indicating that she is trying to engender in him an unconscious sympathetic response.

"However, her proximity to Ensign Chekov would indicate that it is his attention she is attempting to attract."

"Do you give up?" I asked, sparing him a wicked grin.

"Hardly. I will continue to observe and analyze the data."

"My little scientist," I said, dropping my voice.

His eyes locked with mine and heated. My hand was halfway to his before I was able to rein it in.

"Are you seeking to distract me from observing the interactions between Lieutenant Gaila and the officers seated at that table?"

"No," I said. "Why would I?"

"I remember that you are not above using your charms to divert me from a course of action that would insure my victory over you."

"This isn't a competition, it's a challenge of your superior scientific skills; I already know who Gaila wants," I said, wrinkling my nose at him.

His eyes focused on the tip of my nose and his lips pursed slightly, as if he wanted to kiss it. He met my eyes again. "That is true. If I am to discern the identity of the Lieutenant's intended target I must focus on her."

"Go ahead," I said, refusing to drop my gaze from his.

Who knew what was going on across the mess hall – I had plenty to keep me busy at my own table.

"I must return to my surveillance," he said, his voice low.

"Your scientific surveillance," I clarified.

He nodded. "Yes, my scientific surveillance." He sounded like he was in a trance.

_Gotcha! I'm not the only one who's a slave to my desires!_

He blinked and tore – honest to Orion sex deities, _tore_ – his gaze from mine. I looked at the curve and point of his ear for a long second, then looked back at Step One.

Gaila was beaming at poor Chekov and McCoy was looking mutinous.

Then Gaila looked back at McCoy and he smiled. Smiled! An honest to the deity of your choice smile.

"Curious," muttered Spock.

"Incredible," I agreed. "He's not really a smiler. In fact, I always kind of figured him for part-Vulcan."

"Doctor McCoy is _not_ in any small way _Vulcan_," Spock said, coming dangerously close to sounding disdainful.

I smirked; Gaila patted Chekov on the head; McCoy looked homicidal.

_McCoy's a puppy Gaila. Don't pay attention to other puppies – he won't like it!_

"What is she doing?" I muttered.

"The Lieutenant appears to be using jealousy to incite a reaction in her intended target," Spock said.

I stared at him, amazed. "What do you know about jealousy?"

"In my experience, women often attempt to incite jealousy in an attempt to garner the attention of men for whom they hold interest."

"What experience?" I demanded. "Who was trying to make you jealous? Who was trying to garner your attention? Give me her name. I need to have a little talk with her."

He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. "You appeared at my office dressed provocatively and told me that you had plans of a romantic nature."

"I did not!" I protested. "I mean, yeah, I was dressed like," I waved my hand towards Gaila, "But I didn't tell you I had a date."

"You said you had plans."

"You assumed that meant a date."

"Vulcans do not assume. We infer."

I paused as it all sunk in. "Are you saying you were jealous?"

"Vulcans do not feel jealousy. It is illogical."

I raised my eyebrows at him and tapped my fingers on the table.

"Perhaps you wish to tell me what your motivation was, then," he said, his voice soothing.

_He's learning._

"I was dressed like that for _you_," I whispered, "No one else. I wasn't trying to make you jealous, I was trying to get you to see me as more than your student."

"You were most successful," he said; his hand twitched on the table, jerking towards my fingers. He stopped himself, and refocused on the tableau across the room. "I wish to discuss my conclusions."

_And you wish to hold my hand. In public. My naughty Vulcan._

"Shoot," I said, still grinning at his impassive face.

"Based upon the data, I would conclude that Lieutenant Gaila is attempting to attract the attentions of Doctor McCoy."

"Got it in one," I said, proudly.

"I do not, however, understand the attraction," he continued. "Doctor McCoy appears to be ill-suited for the Lieutenant. He is," he paused, "often unpleasant; she is vivacious and outgoing. They are not compatible."

"Compatible, schompatiable," I scoffed. "The heart wants what the heart wants. On the surface you and I aren't compatible, but that didn't stop us."

"We are highly compatible," he disagreed. "We share similar interests and comparable intellects."

"And I can't keep my hands off of you," I said, pitching my voice low enough for Vulcan ears only. I slid my hand across the table until it was almost touching his – I could feel the heat from his fingers radiating onto mine.

"And there is that," he said softly.

"Nyota!"

I whipped my head towards the voice to find Gaila standing at the edge of the table glaring at me.

"What?"

"You were supposed to be watching," she said, throwing herself into an empty chair. "Not flirting."

"I wasn't flirting," I protested; Spock sniffed, a habit I swore he'd learned from Gaila. "Anyway, we were both observing, Lala."

She looked at me, then at Spock, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Okay then, how did Step One go?"

I kicked her under the table; Spock said, "Step One?"

I glared at her, and said, "Gaila has a plan to bag the doctor and she likes to make up steps for her plans."

"Bag?" Spock echoed.

"Capture, get, _cherchez la homme_," she said, "That's French, by the way. Nyota taught me." She beamed at me, then looked back at Spock, "And yes, I created the steps all on my own – I did not get them from anywhere else. No one has ever written a book about this."

I tried to kick her again, but she'd moved her legs – all I connected with was empty air.

"So," she said, staring at me. "Did you see _anything_?"

"I saw him smile at you," I replied. "That's a good thing. He's definitely interested."

She nodded and blew out a breath, then looked at my boyfriend. "I'd really like to hear the opinion of another extremely attractive male," she said, speaking in her sultry voice.

I cleared my throat and glared at her.

She rolled her eyes and said, "Commander? Do you have anything to add?" Her voice was normal, brisk.

He regarded her in silence for several seconds before sliding his eyes to me. I could've sworn that he looked trapped. Then he took a deep breath and I wondered if he was going to Vulcan nerve pinch her. Instead, he said, "Based upon my observation of your interaction with Doctor McCoy and Ensign Chekov it would appear that either are open to pursuing a more personal relationship with you."

She leaned across the table and I watched Spock closely. If his eyebrow so much as twitched he'd be one dead Vulcan. "Thank you, Commander. I appreciate your help."

"Certainly," he said, meeting her gaze squarely with nary an eyebrow tremble or ear flush. "Nyota has told me that this is important to you."

Gaila smiled at me. "You said that?"

"It's true," I pointed out. "I get that."

She leaned back. "And I'm going to get my doctor."

_I think you're right._


	4. Routine

Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

_**Part Four of Thirteen: Routine**_

If you don't water your relationship it's going to die faster than that plant your aunt gave you last Christmas.

* * *

I made it back to Spock's quarters without doing anything that would earn me a Vulcan nerve pinch.

I was very proud of myself.

I didn't trip him in the corridor outside of the mess hall and throw myself down on top of his prone body; I didn't press my body against his in the lift; I didn't push him against the wall outside of his corridors and kiss him until our toes were curling.

No, I kept my hands to myself.

Which meant that I was completely allowed to grab him the second we were alone.

I nipped at his lips, licking the part with the tip of my tongue, waiting for him to open his mouth and allow me in. His fingers tightened on my hips as our tongues slid together.

_Success!_

My head was spinning when I finally let go of his mouth long enough to breathe.

"Nyota," he said softly.

"Mmmhmmm," I murmured, ready to dive back in.

"I have a great deal of work to finish."

"You're always telling me that Vulcans don't need to sleep as much as Humans," I said, kissing his neck. "You can work the night away _after_."

"Nyota, I must…."

I pulled my head back so I could look him in the eye. "Did you really think that I would allow you to go unmolested after telling me that you were jealous of my possible activities at the Academy? You're just lucky I didn't jump on you in the middle of dinner."

"I did not tell you I was jealous," he protested. "In fact, I was very clear that I was _not_ jealous."

_Sure._

"Really?" I demanded, "You asked me over and over what my plans were."

"On the contrary, you told me that you had plans and I ensured that you would not be late for them."

"And you didn't care what the activities were."

"You were not mine, Nyota. It was illogical for me to take any interest in your activities outside of our work together."

_Mine._

I shivered.

"And now I'm yours."

"Just as I am yours," he said.

"That's it," I said, tugging at him, "You, me, bedroom. Now."

"I do not understand why this is so arousing to you," he said even as I dragged him towards his bed.

"Because I'm yours and you're mine and you were jealous," I explained.

_How is he still not getting this?_

"I was not jealous," he said again, even as I started tugging at his clothes. "I will concede that I was interested in knowing more about what you did outside of our study sessions; however, it was not my place to ask you to discuss such matters."

"Uh huh," I said, getting him naked and starting on myself. "Got it. You weren't jealous, merely interested."

"That is correct," he said, the last syllable ending in a strangled sound as I pushed my warm body against his warmer one.

"Happy to clear that up," I said, nipping at his ear and tugging him to the bed. "Very, very happy." My knees hit the edge of the bed and I folded down, pulling him with me.

He caught himself on outstretched arms; I strained upwards, seeking his lips with mine.

He gave them to me with a groan, his body pushing down into me. He was hard everywhere; it seemed that he had been just as aroused by our flirty banter in the mess hall as I was.

I ended the kiss, bit his earlobe and told him so.

He met my slightly unfocused eyes with his melting ones. "Nyota, I always enjoy our discussions."

"But that one was especially fun," I pointed out.

"Fun," he said. He still made it sound like a dirty word.

"Fun," I said. "Fun is fun. We need more fun."

"I do not understand your argument," he said, his skin sliding over mine in a most distracting manner. I figured I had twenty seconds tops before I was incapable of speech. "Fun is, by its very definition, fun."

I grasped his face in my hands and stared up at him. "Look, you have your naked body pressed to mine, Spock. Lucidity is impossible right now. Got it?"

His eyes bore into mine. "I understand."

"Good," I said, arching up against him; his mouth fell open slightly and his eyes were glowing in the dim light of the room.

I slid my hand between our bodies, trailing my fingers down the length of our bodies until I gained the juncture of my legs. I wet my fingers between my legs, making sure to bump his straining hardness with my knuckles, then I flipped my moist fingers over, stroking him with the moisture. He twitched and shook against my fingers.

"Nyota," he said, pushing into my hand.

"Yes," I whispered, guiding him into me. I closed my eyes and arched my back, taking every delicious millimeter inside of me. His lips found my neck and he moved inside of me, delicious and intoxicating.

_This is fun. This is perfect. This is everything._

My teeth found his neck and I nipped and nibbled his muscles as he strained inside of me; he made irresistible whimpering noises – all of his Vulcan composure lost in what we were doing to each other. That thought crystallized all of the sensations – binding them into a point of excruciating perfection that sent my body hurtling…wherever it went during these moments.

He came moments later, pouring himself into my twitching body. I held his head as he shook through his climax.

"I love you," I whispered.

"And I you," he said, raising shaking fingertips to my face. Wordlessly – we didn't need the mantra anymore - his mind brushed against mine, then entered. The backdrop was blue – it had been for five months – would always be, I feared. So much loss.

I was pulled into the blue – then into the blackness of the first meld _after_ - the roaring darkness so full of roaring pain and guilt that I couldn't believe one soul could contain it all; I thought about how I'd held him, rocked him, cried the tears he would not – _could_ not – cry.

_But you are here_, he said gently, showing me the bright light that was me –what I brought to his life.

_Always, Spock._

My love for him was finally as big and bright as his was for me.

_My Nyota,_ the colors intensified, his way of saying that he loved me. We floated there, basking – all of the shadows gone.

Finally, he sighed._ I must…._

_I know. No rest for the First Officer_. I sighed myself.

He withdrew from my body and my mind.

I suppressed the overwhelming urge to pull him back to me; I settled for sighing and grousing. "They never told us about this."

"Please clarify, Nyota," he said; he was idly tracing my eyebrows – following their curve raptly.

"The Academy instructors – they never told us just how much paperwork there was going to be. They made it seem like we'd be flying from all over the galaxy, meeting new races, learning new things, gathering new flora – having adventures all the time." I sighed, "They didn't tell us we'd have to write _everything_ down."

His lips quirked up and he moved his fingers to the top of my ears, "It is quite logical that Starfleet does not inform potential cadets of the amount of paperwork that will be expected of them once they are commissioned - it would make recruitment much more challenging."

I laughed and he met my eyes, his shining a little more than usual – the indication of full-on Spock amusement.

"You made a joke."

"I made an observation."

"A funny one," I insisted.

"Perhaps," he said.

I reached up and pushed my fingers through his sweaty hair. I counted three new gray hairs, bringing the grand total to ten.

He caught my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist, right where my pulse still echoed with the force of the earlier explosion.

"I must work," he said.

I murmured my half-hearted assent and he kissed me gently, then stood and pulled on loose pants and a t-shirt. Dressed, he bent down over me, brushing his fingers over my lips. "Rest well, Nyota, I will be beside you when you wake."

I pressed a kiss into his skin.

He straightened, said, "Lights out," and left.

I stared into the darkness and thought about those ten gray hairs – they were beacons in the inky darkness, proof that he needed to get his mind off of work once in a while..

He needed some fun.

And I knew just what to do.


	5. Strategic Planning

Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

So sorry for the delay, folks - my computer died on Monday and it's been quite a process getting back up to speed. I should be up and fully running during the weekend, which means I can finally get back on track with this fic and Cattywampus.

_**Part Five of Thirteen: Strategic Planning **_

Sex grows from the relationship, not the other way around

* * *

I was reading _Monogamy Rocks!_ in a corner of the Mess Hall, surrounded by a half-dozen people, all of whom looked like they were going to fall asleep in their reconstituted eggs and bacon at any second, when Gaila arrived.

"Away missions suck," she yawned as she slid into the empty seat and stared at her plate,

"Morning, Gaila. Yes, they do. How closely are emails between crew members watched?"

"Not very." She picked her head up like a dog smelling beef, all traces of sleepiness gone. "Why? What are you planning on emailing your crew member?"

"Let's say I'd like to send a _friend_ an email that is more _personal_ than the usual email I'd send this friend."

"Oooo," she murmured, "A personal email to a friend. Well, let's say you had another friend – someone who had perfectly legal, sanctioned and legitimate access to the computer mainframe _and_ was a computer genius. If you sent that personal email to the first friend, the other friend could definitely make sure it was deleted from the system."

"Would the computer friend read the email?"

She drew an X over her heart, just like I'd taught her. "Never, Nyota. And, if by some accident, the computer genius with whom you are friends saw the email while deleting it forever, she would never, ever throw it in your face - unless she really needed to."

"So nice to know," I said. "My computer friend is a woman among women."

She smiled beatifically, "And a goddess among the nerds." She took a bite of her breakfast; I returned to reading.

"Can I tell you something?" she said after several seconds of silence.

"Did you break another computer?" I asked, peering up at her.

"No, my computer breaking days are over – I will only use my powers for the forces of good in the future," she said like she making a vow.

"What do you need to tell me?"

"Don't laugh."

"I won't."

She glanced around the room before leaning in close to me and dropping her voice to a whisper. "I miss The Doctor."

My eyebrows flew up. I couldn't stop them. "Wow."

"I _know_. He's down there," she gestured towards the floor – which, in Gaila gestures, meant Omega Sati 3 – currently revolving below us. "Setting up a hospital…."

"Medical facility," I corrected.

"And I'd love to be there with him, just helping, looking at him…."

"Touching him, rubbing his back at the end of a long day."

She giggled, "Maybe a little – but really, I just miss knowing that I could bump into him at any moment."

"Amazing."

"What?"

"You," I grinned, "You being like this. It's nice."

"It's not nice, it's ridiculous," she said vehemently. "It's awful. I don't like it. I need him here with me. How did you do this for so long?"

"Do what?"

"Wait for The Commander."

"Uhm, he was my teacher, I was his student. We _had_ to wait."

"Stupid," she said.

"Smart," I countered.

"I can't believe you were able to sit in his office with him, alone, for a year and not jump him."

"Discretion is the better part of valor."

She shook her head. "No, that's not it. You're both repressed. That's what did it."

I frowned at her, "We're not repressed."

"Of course you're not," she said, patting my hand gently.

I started drumming my fingers on the table.

_I'll show you repressed._

"Gaila, do you know where I can find restraints?"

_Take _that_, Lala! We are _not_ repressed. We are open to spiciness and fun. _

"Leather, metal, rope or cloth?" she asked before popping a bite of toast in her mouth.

"There are different _kinds_?"

"Of course! There are even more types, but those are the ones I have with me."

I gaped.

"I also have clit whips, whip whips, paddles, nipple ticklers, fifteen flavors of lube, a swing, a…."

_I _am_ repressed. Totally and completely repressed._

I held up a hand to stop her from continuing with her alarming list. "I think McCoy is in over his head with you."

"I don't bring them out on the first date, silly," she protested, rolling her eyes. "You know, unless it's called for."

"When would bringing out all of _that_ ever be called for?"

"You'd be surprised," she said, popping more bread in her mouth. "And I didn't even start to tell you about the _really_ fun stuff."

Fun and ouchie seemed to be closely entwined in Gaila's world.

"Just promise me you'll keep the heavy artillery hidden the first few times you and McCoy…," I dwindled, constitutionally incapable of continuing the sentence. "I'm sure that stuff is…_spicy_ - but you don't need it if there are _feelings_."

She grunted and gave me an analytical look. "So why are _you_ asking me about this?"

_Damn it!_

"I'd like to amend my earlier statement. All that stuff, you know – the stuff you just listed, isn't necessary – but there's always room for…."

"Spice," she said, looking at the book pointedly. "You're on Chapter Six aren't you?"

"There are some good ideas in here," I said. "Besides I just thought we needed a little fun. Spock works too hard."

"As do you."

"What's fun for him is fun for me."

"Yeah it is," she said, grinning evilly. "Tying up fun."

"We don't need to talk about this anymore."

"Back the starship up, Lieutenant Uhura, we most certainly do."

"No, we don't," I said hopefully.

"Restraints," she said musingly, "You, The Commander and restraints." She was silent for a moment, then she nodded, "I have just the thing. I'll drop them off later."

"You don't need to," I said. "Really. It was a stupid idea."

"Expanding the limits of your sexual repertoire is never stupid, Ny. It's smart, it's fun and, what's more, it feels really, really good.

"Remember lingerie – what that did for you? This is going to be even better, I promise. You'll be asking for the swing next."

"No, I won't."

"Never say never," she smiled. "Look at me." She leaned closer to me. "So, bondage…."

"Let's not call it that."

"Let's," she shot back. She speared a piece of purple fruit on her fork and sucked it into her mouth. "You and The Commander playing with leather and paddles…."

"I didn't say anything about paddles. Why do you think there will be paddles? There won't be paddles."

"Latex?" she asked, leaning her chair back onto its back legs.

I wondered how bad I'd feel if I pushed her over.

Not very.

"No!"

She smirked, "Ball gags."

My eyes shot open in horror. "_Oekon_, Gaila! Spock just wants to tie me up. That's all. Really. Truly."

The front legs of the chair slammed back onto the floor as she leaned towards me, her mouth hanging open. I scanned the room, sure that the noise had attracted attention; but no one seemed to notice – in fact, three people looked like they were sleeping.

"This was _Spock's_ idea?" she demanded.

"It was a passing thought I picked up during a meld," I said

"He's _kinky_?" she demanded. "He's a kinky Vulcan? Will there really be mice?"

"Stop talking about mice," I begged. "There won't be mice. And there won't be paddles or latex or," I closed my eyes and shuddered, "_any _of that other stuff."

"How about lube? Kelly was a huge proponent of lubricant! There are two pages in Chapter Six all about it."

"I know," I said. "I've read all about it and I don't need it."

"Slippery is good."

I clapped my hands over my ears.

_Why do you do this to yourself, Nyota. Why?_

She was staring at me, tapping her index finger against her lips. The second I dropped my hands she started again. "It wasn't you know?"

"What wasn't I know?"

"A passing thought. The Commander did not have a passing thought about tying you up and having his Vulcan way with you. I bet he's fantasized about doing all manner of scintillating and sinful things to you since the second you sashayed your way into his classroom."

"Sashayed? Really?"

"It's Southern," she smiled. "I'm learning The Doctor's first language."

"Standard is his first, you know, never mind, why don't we talk about him for awhile?"

"The Doctor?" she asked, swirling another purple piece of fruit around on her plate. It looked like she was tracing Orion characters with the juice. "I do like talking about him."

"Are you going to sing to him?" I asked. "Is that going to be your Step Two?"

"What? No, that's a stupid idea."

I glared at her.

"I know it worked for you, but I have a better…."

I intensified the glare.

"_Different_, okay? I have a _different_ idea."

"I can't believe you haven't written a song," I said. "_The Doctor and The Orion_? _Heal Me, Baby_?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh! Here's a line for you: Once you go pink you won't want another dink."

"I'm not singing for him," she said, staring at her plate. "This is serious stuff, Ny. He needs to know that I am fully committed to a possible romantic relationship with him – a monogamous romantic relationship between just him and me…."

"That's what monogamous means."

"And I can't do that by being," she paused and looked at me, "The way I used to be. No songs. No fooling around. I have to be serious. You were right. He's a puppy and I need to be gentle with him."

I patted her hand. "I'm proud of you – you're showing real growth."

"So will The Commander," she snickered, "You know, when he walks in to find you tethered to the bed, completely at his mercy."

"So, Step Two," I said, interrupting her train of thought.

I hoped.

"We will get back to this," she promised.

"I know," I conceded. "But Step Two. You need to be ready when McCoy gets back. No more delays."

"No, no delays."

"So?"

She mumbled something unintelligible.

"What?"

"It's a surprise."

"For him, not for me."

"It needs to be a surprise for you, too. You'll see. It will all become clear. I promise."

"Your secret talent can't be sexual," I said.

She laughed. "It's not. I'm a changed woman, Nyota Uhura – just like you."

"I'm not a changed woman."

"Restraints, sex swings, mice – you're completely changed."

"I'm only going to try one of those things."

"To start," she chirped. "How many times do you think The Commander has pictured you trussed up in the Captain's chair?"

_Oh God!_

"Seriously, Lala, no."

"Strapped to a seat in one of the shuttles?"

I whimpered.

"Tied spread-eagle to stakes on a Risian beach?"

I pressed my fingers to my temples.

"Chained to a wall in some sort of sex dungeon?"

I prayed for a minor Klingon attack.


	6. Tantalize

Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

_**Part Six of Thirteen: Tantalize**_

When planning your sexyfuntimes, remember that delaying gratification leads to lots and lots of explosiveness. In other words, remember the immortal words of Doctor Frankenfurter: "I see you shiver with antici... pation."

* * *

Karaoke: it truly was as horrible as I'd always heard it would be; especially with Pavel Chekov singing a Bolian love song.

In the middle of his seemingly endless performance, Gaila found me in my corner of the rec room.

"Can you believe this?" I asked her, grinning away. "He just sang that he loves his beloved's nose hair."

In response, she pointed a finger at me and said, "You, Nyota Uhura, are a complete and total tease."

"What? Pavel's the one who's singing about nose hair."

"It's always the quiet, repressed ones," she muttered, throwing herself down on the couch right next to me; I bounced a little. "They're the ones that have the sex dungeon in their basement."

"You're making much less sense than usual," I shouted. Pavel was hitting a note that proved to me that he really was a teenager. No grown Human man could hit a note that high

"Oh Gaila, I don't know anything about sex toys. What's a ball gag, Lala? Can I borrow a set of beginner restraints, Orion sex goddess?" she said in a high falsetto that was supposed to be me.

She'd used it a lot in the past.

Usually when she was talking about situations related to Spock, shoes and clothing choices.

"They aren't beginner restraints," I said testily.

"Yes, they are," she disagreed. "Not that it matters – you probably have a whole trunk of toys stored in your bedroom."

"My bedroom was your bedroom for four years," I pointed out. "You know full well I don't have a trunk of _anything_. And what _are_ you talking about?"

Pavel was finally done with his song; one of the engineers started singing an Andorian folk song – thankfully she had a beautiful voice.

"Those emails," Gaila hissed. "Those beautiful, romantic emails you've been sending The Commander for the last three days."

"Still not following," I said. "Or understanding how you know what was in the emails since you promised me that you were going to delete them forever without reading them. You crossed your heart."

"I _did_ delete them forever – I just had to make sure I wasn't getting rid of something important," she said, throwing her head onto the back of the couch and making a little whimpering sound. "And so I was honor-bound to read every one of those _words_ – those sensual and sexy, evocative and redolent words."

"They're love poems – not," I dropped my voice to a whisper, "_Sexy stuff_."

"Oh that stuff is sexy," she said, her eyes dilating as she drifted into some hormone-infused headspace. "Very, very sexy. Achingly sexy. _Maddeningly_ sexy."

I snapped my fingers in front of her face.

She blinked and her eyes focused. "I was handling this just fine – The Steps, The Doctor being planetside. All of it," she said. "And then you had to start sending The Commander _those_ emails and my head is all muddled and I'm _miserable._"

"You're miserable because you miss him," I ventured.

"That's not all of it. It's been over two weeks," she moaned, cradling her face in her hands.

"It's been three days, not even – more like sixty hours or something," I said. "And he's back tomorrow."

"I'm not talking about The Doctor being gone, Nyota," she hissed. "It's been over two weeks since…." She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh. Oh! But that's not that long."

"Not that lo-," she sputtered. "I'm not like you and Spock. I can't go years without having sex."

"I didn't go years…it was only two years. And I was waiting. For him! Waiting is good."

"I know that. I just don't like the part of waiting where I don't get to have sex." She moaned. "It's been horrible. He's gone and I'm subjected to your emails to The Commander and my brain is just…" she waved her hands in circles around her head.

_Leonard McCoy, you better get your Southern self back on this ship before Gaila loses her mind._

"I wasn't trying to cause you problems," I pointed out.

"No just the poor Commander. I know just what he's going through - working his cute Vulcan butt off for the last two days while you send him _those_ emails – unable to touch you, kiss you, _be_ with you."

"Gaila!"

"Things were so easy when I was easy," she said, running her fingers through her hair.

"You weren't easy, just indiscriminant."

She patted my arm. "You're a good friend, Ny. Even though you do love torturing me and The Commander."

"I'm not torturing anyone."

_Enticing, exciting, intriguing perhaps – but not torturing. _

_Much._

The engineer was done and now two of Spock's science officers were singing a duet. It was slightly nauseating.

"Oh yes you are," she said. "Yes you are. The Commander is losing his mind."

"You're projecting."

"What's that? And no, I'm not. I know these things, Nyota. I used to have sex all the time…" she dwindled. "Monogamy is hard."

"But worth it," I pointed out.

"I know," she sighed. "The Doctor just needs to get his cute butt back up here so I can finish these damn steps and have sex with him."

"And then?"

She looked at me and smiled wickedly, "We'll have more sex. Eat meals together. Sleep in the same bed. Talk. Watch movies together. That's what it's like, right?"

I nodded. "And how does that sound?"

Her shoulders relaxed and her face lightened, "It sounds pretty fantastic."

_Good girl._

I squeezed her arm encouragingly.

She took several deep breaths and listened to the singing. "They really aren't good, are they?"

"No," I sighed. "No, they are not."

"I should sing," she said. "Might make the time go faster."

"It couldn't hurt," I said – then Spock walked in, pausing in the doorway as his eyes scanned the room. He looked like he always did: collected, perfect, calm. My heart sputtered at the sight of him. It was the first time I'd seen him off of the bridge in two days.

The first time I'd seen him off of the bridge since I'd started to send him the emails.

"What is _he_ doing here?" I demanded. "He's supposed to be in a dinner meeting with Kirk and Scotty."

"Losing his Vulcan mind," Gaila said triumphantly as she waved madly.

Someone started singing some popular Earth song.

Spock's head shifted in our direction and his eyes met mine and heated – I could see that even across the room – and he strode towards us.

_Oh!_

"Oh honey, you are going to get _so_ lucky," Gaila said quickly and quietly, "And I envy you so very much."

"He has to be at work in fifteen minutes," I hissed. He was almost to our couch.

"Never say no to a quickie," she whispered back. "Good evening, Commander."

"Lieutenant," he said; she smirked at him, which he patently ignored, instead locking his eyes on me. "Nyota," he said, his voice more melodious than usual.

"Hi," I said, tipping my head and looking winning.

"I wished to discuss an important matter with you before my shift. Might I walk you to your quarters?"

Heat flared in my stomach.

"Sure," I said, trying to remember how to breathe. His eyes were very dark.

"'Night, Gaila," I said, standing and walking towards him.

"Remember I have a volleyball game at 1400 tomorrow and you're cheering me on! You need to get your rest tonight!" she shouted.

I glowered at her; Spock sent her an appraising glance over his shoulder. We walked through the doors and into the corridor. His pace increased; he was almost _hurrying_. Every few seconds he cut his eyes to me and my breath would catch. His gaze was intense, aroused.

My tongue shot out and licked my lips; his breath, usually as even and steady as a metronome faltered and his eyes dilated to black.

We got in the lift with two other people. He shifted closer to me – closer than he'd ever been in public. I breathed deeply; his breathing was deep and even. The crew members chattered on, completely oblivious to the insane amount of tension sparking between me and Spock.

_Which is for the best, Nyota. Really._

My door was thirty steps from the lift. The second we were inside, he had my back pressed into the door while his lips crashed into mine, and his hands pulled me ever closer to him.

I was panting and he was close to it when he finally released my mouth.

He pressed his palms to the door, his arms bracketing my head. He stared into my eyes, trying to slow his breathing. "Nyota…."

I nodded, unable to form words.

"I desire you greatly. Your missives to me," he faltered to a stop, his eyes slipping closed, "Were very intriguing."

"Intriguing?"

"Very." He slid his hands towards my face until his thumbs were tangling in my hair. He opened his eyes again. "It has been difficult remaining focused on my duties for the last forty-eight hours. I find myself remembering certain phrases and," he took another breath, "descriptive passages."

"It's exciting, isn't it?" I asked, brushing my lips along the line of his jaw. "I'm trying to increase the anticipation in order to intensify the experience for both of us."

_Just_ _like Dr. Flenderson suggested._

"You have been most successful," he said, his voice low and heavy; his nails scratched at the door and his thumbs flexed, tugging at my hair. "It is also distracting."

"Which can be fun," I said, nipping his chin. "We can't only think about work _all_ the time."

He groaned and leaned into me. "I must be on duty on the bridge in ten point three minutes."

"I know," I whispered. "I didn't expect to see you at all."

"I informed the Captain that I had an important matter to attend to."

"You lied?" I asked.

His eyes, black with desire and need, met mine. "No. I had to see you. It was imperative." He took a single, deep breath – then a single, giant step away from me. "But now I must attend to my duties. I will take my leave." He didn't move – I was still squished against the door, blocking him.

I scooted over and he pressed a kiss into my hair. "I will see you at 1700 hours tomorrow, Nyota. Promptly." His voice was heavy with promise.

"You sure will," I murmured.

He gave me that melting gaze once more, than left.

_  
Well _that _was fun._


	7. In Knots

Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

_**Part Seven of Thirteen: In Knots**_

The more comfortable you feel with yourself, the more comfortable you'll feel with your lover; the more comfortable you feel with your lover, the more comfortable you'll feel with yourself.

* * *

_And…._

I checked Gaila's instructions.

_Done._

I had successfully attached the restraints to my bed. The leather and buckles looked strange against my buttery yellow sheets.

_Oh God. Maybe I should abandon this stupid idea._

It's not like Spock knew what I had planned for us.

Maybe we should build up to restraints – start with some lubricant or feathers. We were simple people and restraints – even beginner ones – were too advanced.

"Nyota?"

_Argh!_

Spock had snuck into my quarters while I was debating and was standing in my living room.

"Just a second," I said, my voice unnaturally high. I stared at the restraints.

Gaila's second rule of sex: Trying new things is good for the soul…and other body parts.

The first was never stick things where they don't belong.

_Stop thinking of Gaila!_

"Is something wrong?" Spock asked from outside of the door.

"No," I squeaked.

_Just some Flenderson-induced, Gaila-supported insanity._

"Should I step out for a moment?"

"No!" I yelled, jumping on the bed and buckling the restraints around my ankles. I hadn't seen him in three days and I didn't want him to leave.

The inside of the leather was some soft, furry material that brushed over my skin. It was surprisingly erotic. I stretched myself out on my back and realized that I couldn't buckle the wrist restraints.

_Looks like I'll need some help. With both the restraints and the insanity._

I decided that I'd take help with the restraints first._  
_  
I gripped the straps in my hands and tried to look seductive.

_I am sexy. I am alluring. I am the woman who captured the heart of a Vulcan and I am a goddess of sex. _

_I am totally and completely nervous._

"Okay," I called, tightening my grip on the leather, grounding myself.

Spock entered the room and stopped – no doubt stunned and shocked by the vision of his girlfriend almost-tethered to her bed.

I smiled nervously. "Well?"

He looked me up and down for a very long time – so long that I started to get worried that he wasn't pleased.

Just as I was about to blame this all on Gaila, his eyes met mine – they were as dark and aroused as they'd been that night in Oxford – and a noise like a growl reverberated deep in his chest.

He slammed his eyes shut and took a deep breath; when he opened them again they were a little less heated, a little less primal – but only just.

_I think he likes it!_

"You are certain, Nyota?"

"This is my fantasy as much as it's yours," I said, only lying a little. I kind of liked the possessive look in his eyes – the way he devoured me with his gaze.

And I really, really liked the growl. McCoy had growled at Topher today and it had been extraordinarily sexy.

_Stop thinking of McCoy!_

Now I knew how Gaila had felt – the swoop in the stomach, the speeding heart rate…

_Stop thinking of _Gaila_!_

"Your hands are unbound," he said finally. "I should remedy that."

"I couldn't strap them myself," I pointed out. "My wrists don't turn in that way and -."

He held up a hand and I fell silent.

He strode to the bed in two gigantic, eager steps. He balanced himself on one knee at the edge of the mattress and raked his eyes over my nude body.

_I think he really, _really _likes it!_

"_Wehtsuri_-Nyota," he said, running hot fingertips over the bones of my clavicle.

"You're extraordinary, too," I pointed out.

He quirked an eyebrow as his hands traced up the length of my arms; he twined his fingers through mine.

"This was but a brief thought." he pointed out, his fingers tightening.

"I want to do this," I said. "I want to do this for you. I've been thinking of little else since I decided we should try this."

And that was the complete truth.

His gaze flicked to my mouth, then back to my eyes, "Very well." He loosed his fingers from mine so he could buckle the straps.

"Is that comfortable, my Nyota?"

"Very," I said.

And it was. I kind of liked the feeling of being helpless, unable to do more than be lavished with attention.

Because he was the one that was going to lavish the attention.

"There is no loss of circulation in your hands or feet?" He asked, his long fingers stroking my palms - my fingers twitched in response.

"Nope," I said, wiggling my fingers and toes.

"And what is your safe word?"

"Safe word?"

"In my study of such practices…."

"Your scientific research," I prompted.

His lips quirked, "Yes, in my scientific research, I learned the partners should have a word, one that would not be normally used in intimate situations; a word that, once spoken by the bound partner," he paused and he took a deep breath, "will end all activity immediately."

"Orion," I said instantly. There was no way I was going to be saying – or even thinking of – that word or anyone or anything in any way related to that word.

_From here on out._

"Very well," he intoned, stretching himself out on the bed beside me. "I wish for you to keep your eyes open, _tal-kam_."

"I will," I promised, forgetting momentarily that Spock's talented fingers tended to roll my eyes back in my head and make my lids slam shut with ecstasy.

He ran his fingers down the line of my sternum, watching my face. "I did not anticipate how very appealing this would be."

"To have me at your mercy?"

"Yes, that is a part of it," he said ruminatively, gently cupping my left breast in his palm – he brought the fingers of his right to stroke the underside.

Oh man, did that feel good. Why hadn't I ever asked for that before?

"But I also enjoy the opportunity to touch you without…" he paused and shifted, wetting his index finger and tracing circles around one very happy nipple. "Nyota you are a passionate and ardent lover."

"Thank you?"

"That is a good thing – an exceptional thing - but it does not afford me very many opportunities to touch you unimpeded. I find that once I begin to do so…"

"I ravish you."

"Quite."

"I'll stop it immediately," I panted as he brought his mouth gently to my nipple. His long tongue laved and pressed, circled and flicked. Watching it, unable to participate, was incredible.

"I would not wish for that," he mumbled into the sensitive skin that joined my breast with my torso.

"I won't stop then," I whimpered.

"I will not either," he said, nipping the skin, licking and sucking on it. "You appear to enjoy this."

I did. I really, really did.

"I do. I really, really do."

His lips skimmed across my skin, making wide arcs from one breast to the other; his fingers were busy with my nipples, brushing them gently. My eyes started to roll up and my lids were getting very, very heavy.

"Nyota," he said, a note of warning in his voice.

_Damn it! _

He knew me far too well.

He'd stopped with the oral gymnastics and had settled his chin on my stomach, his gleaming eyes gazing at me. "Please keep your eyes open."

"You couldn't see me," I protested.

"And yet I knew," he pointed out, drifting a fingertip across my stomach – his touch maddeningly light.

"They're open," I said, stretching them wide – they started to water, but I persisted.

"You may blink," he said, brushing his lips around my belly button and his fingers between my legs.

I blinked and focused on his lips, his fingers – his face.

Then he slid two fingers inside my yearning wetness and very precisely curved them up, hitting my g-spot. We'd found it two months ago and it was his favorite new toy.

And mine.

I emitted a quavering moan.

The edges of his lips pulled up and he raised an eyebrow – it was his smug, "see what _I_ can do" look. "There?" he asked, as if he needed to.

I whimpered out a word that started out as yes in my brain but emerged from my lips as a ten syllable conglomeration of moaning and groaning.

With that devastating precision he continued to manipulate my body – moving his fingers relentlessly while he sucked at the skin of my abdomen.

"Keep your eyes open," he demanded, his breath blazing on skin. I struggled to comply, trying to keep my eyes focused on his beautiful, familiar features.

He stared deep into my eyes, curved the fingers inside me and I was gone. I kept my eyes open even as my eyeballs rolled back and a star caught me in its fire.

"Nyota," he said an indeterminate amount of time later. "You need to look at me."

I realized that my eyes were closed and my body was twitching as the electric aftershocks cascaded through me. I opened my eyes and focused on him.

He was stretched out beside me again, his hands gently caressing circles around my belly button. Every few seconds, he would lay his warm palm on the skin, like he could feel the tremors.

Which he probably could.

"Wow," I said when I remembered how to form words.

"Precisely," he replied, nuzzling my ear with his nose.

I flexed my fingers and tried to touch his hair, his ear, his anything.

_Damn it!_

"So, you can let me go now," I prompted. I was a big believer in giving as much as receiving.

"I do not believe I will do so," he said musingly, his fingers and palms continuing their delicious exploration of my stomach.

"But I want to touch you," I said, vaguely realizing that the hardness I felt against my leg was pushing against cloth and not just my leg. "I need to undress you."

"I am capable of undressing myself," he murmured, his fingers combing through the hair on my mound; he gave little tugs now and then. "I do not need your assistance in doing so."

"So you're keeping me tied up," I said.

"Yes," he said, rising from the bed and standing at the foot – I had an unobstructed view of him.

He stared at me a long time, then said, "You are to keep your eyes open. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

He stood stock still for long minutes, so long that I started to get antsy. I was naked, he was dressed and I couldn't get to him to rip his clothes off.

"Spock," I prompted.

He gave me an eyebrow, but toed his shoes off and gracefully looped an ankle over his knee to pull a sock off; he repeated the maneuver.

I groaned and pulled at the restraints.

They held.

He raised his blue shirt slowly, pulling it millimeter by excruciating millimeter off of his body; he did the same with the black undershirt. It was maddening. I would've had the damn things off in seconds.

_Stupid bondage. Stupid, stupid bondage._

He stood looking down at me and I watched the skin above his heart vibrate, watched his muscles move as he shifted his body weight. His penis was tenting against his pants.

"You must be so uncomfortable," I pointed out, looking meaningfully at the juncture of his legs.

"I am quite comfortable," he said, his voice as even and crisp as ever.

I shifted again, my fingers flexed into the air. "Please," I whispered.

"_Telsu tranush."_

_Patience,_ mate?

Then he stepped out of his pants and all thoughts of what he had just called me escaped from my head to be replaced with single words: Spock, skin, pretty, yummy. Want.

He leaned forward at the waist and undid the ankle straps and I breathed a sigh of relief. My wrists would be next. I would be able to touch him.

_Finally._

He spread my legs wide, pushing at my knees until they rested against my stomach. His eyes and fingers moved restlessly over the skin between my legs and I whimpered.

He was going to take me and I wasn't going to be able to touch him.

"You are ready for me," he said; a statement, not a question. He balanced on one knee, then the other, steadying my hips as he drove into me – agonizingly slowly. I turned my bound wrists in so I could grab the pillow, my hair, _anything_. I need to touch, to hold, to grasp_ something_.

He drove into me insistently, pushing me right along with him. He wanted to wring another orgasm out of me and I let him – screaming his name, my body burst into flame. I kept my eyes opened; his head strained back and his eyes slipped closed. My fingers scratched impotently at the pillow. Not being able to touching him was a torment. I twined my legs around his hips and squeezed.

His head fell forward and his eyes opened. I could tell it took him some effort to focus on me.

"A little help," I said, waving my hands at him.

"You have not said your safe word," he said. His voice was still hoarse.

"Orion," I ground out.

He withdrew from my body, something I didn't really want, and unfastened my wrists quickly. I grabbed his hair and pulled his lips to mine and kissed him ferociously; I ran my hands over every bit of his body I could easily reach.

When I was done, I released his mouth and stared into his black eyes.

"I love you," I said, running my fingers along the slash of his eyebrows.

"And for that I am grateful," he said, grasping my hands and pulling them to his lips so he could kiss my wrists.

"And yet you wouldn't undo the restraints so I could touch you."

He kissed my fingertips, "I was waiting for you to say your safe word. To have released you before you indicated the desire for me to do so might have decreased your enjoyment of the activity which you had planned and fantasized about for several days."

_He really _can_ pick my arguments apart in seconds._

_This really felt good._

_I really hate it when Gaila's right._


	8. Breakfast Meeting at Gaila's

Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

_**  
Part Eight of Thirteen: Breakfast Meeting at Gaila's**_

Find a balance between your couple-time and your you-time.

* * *

"Can I have a hallelujah?" Gaila asked as I entered her quarters.

"A what?"

"A hallelujah? It's used to express praise or joy." She gazed evenly at me. "Are you _sure_ you're a linguistic genius?"

"Southern is not a language," I said.

"Hallelujah isn't Southern – though they do seem to use it a lot in the books I'm reading. And Southern _is_ a language - The Doctor said it was his native tongue," she countered, jumping to her feet and bounding to the table. "What'd you bring me for breakfast?"

"_Fake_ eggs, _fake_ strawberries, _fake _bread," I said, being very sure to emphasize the word fake. "And real tea."

"You're still mad?" she asked as she sat.

"You could've warned me, Lala. I thought you'd really hurt yourself."

She rolled her eyes. "You're not good at acting, Ny. If I'd told you what I was going to do you would've been jumpy the whole day. No. It worked out just fine. More than fine."

"Yes, it looks like it did," I acknowledged as I sat myself. "Doctor McCoy couldn't take his eyes off you. "

_Behold the power of The Steps._

_And a t-shirt two sizes too small._

_And truly tiny shorts._

She grinned around her fork.

"He's not going to be happy when he finds out you're faking."

"Len knows I was faking," she said, shoveling food in her mouth.

"Len? When did you start calling him Len?"

"Since he came over about thirty minutes after you and Topher left," she said around a sip of tea.

"Came over where?"

"Here."

"Here, here? To your quarters here? You were _alone _with him." I took a deep and tremulous breath. "Why did you want a hallelujah? Why did he use the word tongue in conversation with you? Gaila, why did you have sex with him?"

"What? I didn't have sex with him!" She looked truly hurt – but I knew her. She could be a good little actress when she wanted to be.

_Unlike me, obviously._

"Gaila, I thought you were serious about following Doctor Flenderson and doing this right; about establishing a foundation upon which to build a real and lasting relationship."

"I am! Len and I didn't have sex, Nyota. I swear."

"On your shoes?"

"All of them."

"And your hair products?"

"Even the ones I liberated from the hotel on Risa."

_Those are are her favorite hair products - she loves them more than she loves anything else in the galaxy._

I sucked in a deep breath. Gaila and Leonard McCoy had been in her quarters together and they hadn't had sex.

It was an actual miracle.

"Wow."

"I know! Aren't you proud of me?"

"Immensely."

I speared some eggs and chewed them slowly. "Is he a good kisser?"

She shrugged.

"He's not?" I squeaked.

Oh this was bad. This was very, very bad.

Leonard McCoy was a bad kisser.

_Poor Gaila._

"I'm sorry," I said.

_My boyfriend is a better kisser than your boyfriend._

She frowned spectacularly – almost like she was reading my thoughts. "No, Nyota," she drew my name out to eight syllables, "that's not what I meant. I don't know what kind of kisser he is. We didn't kiss."

My mouth dropped open; half-chewed eggs hit my plate; "Ewwww!" Gaila shrieked.

I slammed my mouth shut, swallowed, and said, "Let me get this straight: Spock and I engaged in bondage yesterday while _you_ and _Leonard McCoy_ were alone in your room not kissing?"

"You didn't chicken out!" she exclaimed, clapping happily. "Was it awesome? Did Spock ravish you all night? Did you restrain him after he was done with you? Did his hair move? How much did he quiver? Is he walking funny today? Do you want the handcuffs next?"

I held up my hand - just like Spock had when _I _was babbling – and said, "Answer the question, Lieutenant."

"My questions are much more interesting," she said, plopping her elbows on the table and cradling her chin in her palms.

"I asked mine first."

"The rule of 'I asked first' stinks," she said.

"I didn't write it, I just enforce it."

"Fine. There wasn't any kissing," she acknowledged. "There was Step Threeing, but no osculating, smooching, snogging or...do you want me to keep going? I know about fifty words for kissing."

"Maybe I am in a mirror universe," I mumbled in shock.

"Mirror universe, pwah! There's no such thing."

"There's no other explanation," I said.

"_Some_ of us were able to get all the way through Step Three without sticking our tongues down the throat of our intended paramour," she said smugly.

"I didn't stick my tongue down Spock's throat!"

"That's _your_ story," she said. "I wonder if The Commander would tell a different tale."

"He wouldn't," I protested. "He would tell the same tale. There is no other tale to tell – that is the tale."

She nodded. "Of course it is."

_Orions._

_I truly give up._

She ate; I ate.

My head spun in circles.

_Gaila and McCoy hadn't kissed. She hadn't kissed him. He hadn't kissed her._

Nope. It just sounded wrong, no matter how you put the words together.

"We just talked," she said quietly. "About him, his divorce, the South, books. It was nice."

"He talked about his divorce?"

She nodded.

"Doctor Flenderson would be so proud."

"I _know_!"

"He was vulnerable, open and sensitive with you and you really didn't kiss him," I said again.

It sounded more and more wrong.

"I wanted to," she said finally. "A great deal."

And the universe shifted back towards its axis.

"But?"

"But I have you and Kelly in my head telling me to take it slow – to not mess it up - and his lips have freaking _magnets_ in them and I knew, just knew, if I got too close the magnets were going to pull me in and I was going to be enjoying myself all over him before I got through Steps Four and Five."

She glared at me, "You and Kelly doc-blocked me. You've invaded my brain and are doc-blocking me left and right."

"It's for your own good," I said.

"I know," she sighed. "And it's worth it."

"It is."

"Okay," she said brightly. "You, The Commander, restraints. Go!"

"It was fine," I mumbled.

_The mind-blowing, life-altering, universe-shattering kind of fine._

"Fine?" she demanded. "Fine? Are you sure you did it right? Oh, I _knew_ I should've showed you the instructional video."

I choked on my tea.

"Only fine?" she said again, looking so disappointed I took pity on her.

"More than fine," I said, smiling a little. "Great. We had a good time. A very good time."

She clasped at her heart in relief. "Oh thank _Oekon_. You _scared _me. So, what do you want to borrow next? Feathers? Andorian _yetlet_-flavored love gel?"

"_Yetlet," _I pointed out, "tastes like three-day old coffee."

"Cherry-flavored then."

I shook my head.

"That's it? That was the spiciness? Three days of love poems followed by one night of exquisite pleasure then it's back to discussions of the latest boring linguistics article followed by a peck on the cheek, a handshake and sleeping fully clothed?"

"That's not what our life is like," I protested.

_Ninety-five percent of the time._

_And linguistics articles are not boring!_

"Borrow the feathers," she prompted.

"I don't need them," I said, smugly drinking my tea.

"You have your own?" she said, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "I knew you couldn't really be as repressed as you've pretended to be all these years."

"Lala," I sighed. "I don't own feathers – it's just that…guess what Spock has hanging in his closet."

"An Argelian belly dancer's outfit?"

"His instructor's uniform."

_That'll shut her up._

She sucked in a deep breath and, just like that, she was in a lust fugue.

"The licorice uniform," she sighed. "Those endless legs in the licorice uniform."

"Hey! They're _my_ endless legs!"

"Those purposeful hips, that amazing chest in the licorice uniform; The Commander's arms straining against the material of the sleeves."

"_My_ hips, _my _chest, _my_ arms!"

"Oh, and when he bends over!"

"_McCoy_, Lala, remember him?"

Her eyes snapped into focus and she rolled her head around. "Sorry. Got a little distracted there for a minute."

I raised my eyebrows at her.

"_Anyway," _she gave me a calculating gaze, "Let me guess. You have your cadet's uniform with you."

"Of course. You know I never throw anything out."

"Don't I know it," she grumbled. "But for once, your bad habits may be a good thing."

I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

"Len should've been an instructor. Do you know what I'd _do _to him if he was wearing an instructor's uniform?"

"I have a vague idea," I preened.

"You're _so _lucky," she said.

_Don't I know it._


	9. Student and Teacher

Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

Here's some more smut for ya' - but there will be a bit of a break after this. Just providing fair warning.

_**Part Nine **__**of Thirteen: Student and Teacher**_

Popular role-play scenarios include the teacher and the student; the farmer's daughter and the traveling salesman; the Sheik and the harem girl; customer service agent and HR rep; and cop and speeder.

* * *

I'd forgotten how it felt to look at the licorice. Forgotten how it made my mouth water, my fingers flex, my blood rush, my nip…how it affected other parts of my body.

The cadet reds, on the other hand, were adequate; they weren't sexy at all – they were too bulky on top and too short on the bottom. They were oddly balanced.

I couldn't believe that the same person designed both the reds and the licorice.

I was just happy they had.

The licorice uniform was sex all sewn up and I was going to get to see Spock in it again.

And this time, we were going to have sex with him wearing it.

I hummed as I dressed. It took me several seconds to realize the song was _Green Penis_.

_It's a good song._

I started to sing out loud as I arranged the uniform of wonder on Spock's couch and myself at the table, PADD in front of me.

And then I waited. Three whole minutes.

Spock arrived right on time, as usual. He walked into his quarters, head bent over a PADD. "Good evening, Nyota. I must finish reviewing this report."

"Certainly, Commander," I said.

His head snapped up and he stared at me, his eyes practically shooting out of his head as he took in the scene before him.

"Nyota?" he said.

I pointed the stylus at the couch. "I have your uniform, sir. I don't think you're supposed to be out of it during a study session."

"I am not your instructor," he said carefully.

_Great. Now he thinks I'm crazy again. Doctor Flenderson made it seem like the guy would just _know_ what to do._

"I know that," I said, breaking character. "But you got your fantasy and now I get mine."

His eyes were wide and I could hear the wheels of his brain whirring, then it clicked. His eyes heated and he said, "You wish for me to don my Academy Instructor's uniform."

"Yes, I do."

"Very well," he said, retrieving the uniform and heading towards the bedroom. He took three steps, and stopped. "Nyota?"

"Professor?"

"In the interest of equity, I am compelled to state that you were not the only one with _thoughts_ when we were preparing for the Invitational."

I grinned. "Guess that means you're still a fantasy ahead."

"Quite," he replied, then disappeared into the bedroom.

He was back in minutes, striding down towards me. My heart stalled and my head filled with rushing heat.

I'd forgotten how completely, entirely _good_ he looked in the uniform.

"How should I proceed?" he asked, nudging me out of my shock.

"You're the instructor, I'm the student," I prompted. "We do what we did in your office all those months: school stuff."

He sat in the chair opposite of me, his back and shoulders stiffer than usual.

I blinked, falling back into character. "Ah, Professor," I said, nibbling on the end of my stylus. "I'm so happy you are willing to help me with the Bolian language. It's a very, very hard one."

His eyes darkened infinitesimally and he shifted his chair next to mine so he could place his hand over mine, guiding the stylus like he once had in his office on Earth.

_This time things are going to turn_ _out_ so _much better._

I purposely moved my hand, drawing a straight line where I should've drawn a curved one.

"Nyota," he said quickly, "You do not make such errors. What is wrong?"

_Okay, this might take some work._

"That's the problem, Professor," I said. "I just can't get the hang of this. I'm so worried I'm going to fail. What can I do to pass?"

"Study and apply yourself," he said.

"Spock!" I hissed, "We're playing dirty student and instructor – not real student and instructor. If I was really failing a class, of course I'd study and apply myself – but that's not the game."

"I apologize, Nyota. I will try to…"

"Be dirtier," I prompted. "And call me Cadet."

His eyebrows drew together, but I did get a curt nod out of him.

"So, Professor," I tried again, "I _can't_ fail this class – isn't there anything I can do to get an A?" I stared pointedly at his crotch.

His ears flushed green as he followed my gaze; his eyes snapped back to mine and he frowned slightly.

I cleared my throat, raised my eyebrows, and stared at his crotch. "Is there anything I can do to get to the _head_ of the class?"

He stared at the apex of his inseams and his lips formed a very thin, very pursed line. "You may pleasure me orally?" he asked, his voice a tiny bit higher than usual.

It was adorable and I loved him for at least trying to play along.

"Really?" I said, trying to pretend to be more hesitant than eager. "Would that help, if I sucked on you?"

His fingers flexed against the outside of his thighs and he met my wide eyes with his smoldering ones. "For the purposes of this exercise, yes – if you were to provide me with that act, I would change your grade. Of course, I would never have allo-."

"Spock!"

He paused and took a deep breath. "I will award you an A, but only if you do it well," he said finally.

_I think he's catching on._

I bit my lip, took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting my hands on his thighs. "You promise, right? If I do a good job for you, you'll give me an A."

"You must do a _very_ good job," he replied.

"I'll try," I whispered, sliding off of the chair and halfway under the table so I could kneel between his legs. He shifted his feet out, allowing me more room to work.

I ran my fingers up the inside of his pants – his inseams had always fascinated me; they were just so long and straight, leading me right to the Promised Land between his legs – and across the area that was beginning to bulge. I cupped him gently and looked up at him through lowered eyelashes. His eyes were fixed on my face; they were full of love and lust.

It was a potent look – one that went right to every nerve ending I possessed.

"Okay so far, sir?"

"Acceptable," he said, laying a hand over mine and pressing, "But you must work more efficiently if you wish me to alter your grade."

I nodded and fumbled at his fly, opening it and reaching inside his pants. He wasn't wearing underpants and the sudden touch of skin instead of cloth surprised me. I let out a gasp.

"Cadet, is something amiss?"

"You're not wearing underwear, sir."

"No, I am not. Now please attend to your assignment."

I nodded, smiling hugely. I pulled him out and stroked the hardening length. "You're very big, sir. I don't know if I can handle this."

"You are an exceptional linguist, Cadet – I believe your oral capabilities are such that you can meet every challenge put before you."

I giggled. I loved when he talked dirty – well, the Vulcan version at least.

"Cadet, your delay indicates that you are not fully invested in this project."

"Sorry, sir," I murmured, lapping at the head, swirling my tongue into the beads of moisture weeping from the tiny hole, sucking the piquant moisture into my mouth and swallowing. His fingers flexed on the chair and I could feel his eyes fixed on my tongue, my mouth – on what they were doing to him.

"Is that acceptable, sir?"

"Yes," he said, his voice heavy with desire, "Please continue, Cadet." One of his hands migrated to my head, gently pushing at it. I took the hint and swept my mouth down the length of him, right to where his penis disappeared into his pants. His fingers twitched, winding into my hair, guiding me gently but firmly into taking him in and out, wetting him with my tongue, sucking fiercely, loving him with my mouth. My fingers tightened on the inseams, I took him even deeper, driving him inexorably. My efforts were rewarded with him calling my name and flooding my mouth with his tangy essence.

His panting breaths slowed and he pulled on my shoulders and I stood, smiling down at him triumphantly. "So, did that earn me an A?"

His eyes were heavy, dark and depthless. "You showed good effort and adequate technique. However, this is an advanced class – the standards for achieving an A are much more stringent than they would be for an introductory course."

It appeared he was really getting into it.

_Oooo! _

I made my lip quiver. "But you promised, Commander!"

"I told you that I would award you with an A if you did a very good job. That was merely a good job." I could see his cock starting to stir again.

Pride and love crashed over me in a breathtaking wave. I loved when he let himself go and have fun.

And not just because it meant that I was going to get to have fun, too.

"So what can I do?"

He stood, brushing his body against mine on the way up. "You may turn and face the desk."

I took a deep breath. My wildest fantasy, the one that never failed to work me up, was being bent over his desk and taken by him. And it was going to happen. Right here. Right now.

"I've always wanted this, Spock," I whispered.

"Professor Spock," he corrected, spinning me around and pushing my shoulders down to the table. His hand trailed down my back and ass, then tugged on the skirt of my uniform.

"Cadet, do you understand what I desire?"

"Yes, sir."

"I will give you an A if you allow me to do this."

"I really need that A, sir," I said even as he flipped the skirt up and dug his fingers into the waistband of my regulation underwear.

"You need to participate," he said. "Participation is fifty percent of the grade."

I whimpered and ground back at him.

"Very well," he said, pushing the underwear down. I looked at him over my shoulder as he kneeled behind me so he could guide me in lifting one foot, then the other; he eased the panties off of my body.

"Open for me, Cadet."

I shivered and moved my feet further apart.

His fingers tightened on the backs of my thighs. "I said _open_ for me, Cadet."

And I understood. I groaned a little, deep in the back of my throat, and slid my hand between my legs, finding my lips – soaking wet, of course – and spreading them for him – for his mouth.

"Much better," he said, his voice low; then his mouth was on me – tasting and licking, sucking lapping me forward to back, then back again – coating my quivering flesh with his tongue.

I shut my eyes, remembering his office – of the times I'd pictured something like this happening there.

How pale the fantasies were – how weak and feeble – when compared to the reality; my fingers scratched the surface of the table, my legs fought to stay straight. And still he feasted on me, devoured me.

I started keening, readying to pitch over.

But he stopped, rose, pulled my hips up until my feet were off the floor. My toes scrambled for purchase and found it on his feet, my skin sliding over the leather of his boots.

He anchored me, steadied me as I went on tiptoe. When I was where he wanted – where he needed me - he guided himself in, pushing forward until I could feel the rasp of the licorice uniform against the backs of my legs – my ass.

One strong arm encircled my waist, keeping me close to him even as he leaned down until his chest was resting against my back, his free hand braced next to mine on the table. My name, his voice, erupted in my ear – then he said it again – and again until the third syllable was lost in a growl and he began to thrust – to pummel and push into me at an angle that brushed him across my G-spot and my eyes rolled back into my head as I screamed his name, spasming around him as he continued moving, continued taking my body and pushing it even higher until he roared himself.

My hands slid forward, my head zoomed towards the table until strong arms pulled me up and back, anchoring me against a heaving chest. Sharp teeth nipped at my ear.

"How'd I do?" I asked, craning my neck so I could kiss him.

"You performed quite admirably," he said before he kissed me back. "Wholly and completely admirably."

_Go to the head of the class, Cadet Uhura._


	10. Disco Night on the Enterprise

Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

_Osu_ is Vulcan for 'sir'; I know it's supposed to be used as an honorific and not in the context in which I use it in this story – but I couldn't find a better word, so I'm going to remind myself that Vulcan is NOT a real language and, therefore, I can use _osu _any way I want.

_**Part Ten **__**of Thirteen:**__** Disco Night on the **_**Enterprise**

Every once in a while, recreate your first date.

* * *

Spock took another sip of his water and, with a single eyebrow in the up position, watched our crewmates careen joyfully around the room. "I do not understand why Humans feel the need to comport themselves in such an undignified manner. If they are in need of physical release, their time would be better served participating in athletic pursuits."

"It's very dignified," I protested.

He looked at me, then pointedly focused on a point over my left shoulder.

I turned around and found what he was looking at – one of Gaila's fellow computer geniuses was…well it looked like a full body heave accompanied by music.

"If not altogether graceful," I amended. "Like I told you in Oxford, we need diversions and fun."

"It appears that the majority of diversions involve music played at uncomfortably high decibels," he pointed out.

The music wasn't _that _loud – even for a half-Vulcan; besides, we were well away from the speakers.

"Just the ones we engage in in public," I said, taking a sip of…not water.

His dark eyes met mine. "To what are you referring, Nyota?"

_Oh, do you want to play, Spock?_

"I am referring to the diversions Humans – and many other species – engage in in private."

He shook his head, "Many Human hobbies involve music or other loud auditory stimulation; the action movies you enjoy, for example…."

I bit back a sigh as I realized he really _wasn't_ playing.

"I was referring to activities of the spicy variety," I interrupted.

His eyebrows drew together. "Cooking?"

"No - ."

"But spices are used in cooking."

"_Metaphorical_ spices, Spock."

"Metaphorical spices?" he repeated.

I took a step closer and lowered my voice so only Vulcan ears could hear. "Diversions like the ones we've indulged in recently."

Comprehension snapped in his eyes and I swore I could see sparks flicker in the depthless darkness.

Or maybe it was the not-water I was drinking.

His breathing changed subtly and his eyes held mine.

_Okay, not the not-water._

I grinned around my glass and thought licentious thoughts: beginner bondage and advanced role-plays.

His breath hitched and he took a step closer; I wondered if he could read my thoughts even without touching me. Wondered if he was remembering the same things I was.

Wondered why we were in this stupid room having eye sex and not back in his quarters or mine having the real thing.

Hot fingers grabbed my hand and I had a moment of triumph – _made the Vulcan touch me in public! _– before the fingers squeezed uncomfortably and yanked me away.

_Not hot Vulcan boyfriend; Doctor-crazy Orion friend._

"Ouch!" I yelped. "Lala, what are you doing?" A good bit of my drink sloshed onto the floor and she towed me right through the spill.

"We need to talk," she replied, finally getting us to wherever her crazed mind decided we needed to be. "Would you look at him!" she yelled, releasing my hand to throw her own out. "Look. At. Him."

"McCoy?" I guessed as I tried to rub feeling back into my hand.

"Of course, McCoy," she said; she was just this side of hysterical.

"Okay, okay," I soothed, and looked. He was particularly gorgeous – the dark blue shirt, with its open neck and unbuttoned sleeves, and the tight pants comprised of some muscle cupping material, were really working for him - I had the feeling he'd dressed as strategically for this date as Gaila had.

"He kissed me Ny," she squeaked, "Really kissed me - all slow and devouring. I can't do it. I'm only a woman, Ny – a slave to my hormones. His lips have magnets, his hips have photon torpedoes and his fingers are magic; he's an adorable puppy Ny; his ears are so soft and his eyes are so soulful."

"You're mixing metaphors," I pointed out.

"He's been making me crazy for the last four days, Ny," she groaned. "And I feel like I'm _dying_. Wow, I just noticed that your hair looks really good."

Only Gaila would be able to notice hair in the midst of an emotional crisis.

"Behold the alchemy of Orion hair products," I conceded.

"Told you they worked," she said, fluffing my hair a little. "Proper hair care is the foundation of any beauty regime."

"I thought skin care was the foundation of a beauty regime."

"They are the twin pillars that make up the foundation. Nyota, why won't Spock teach me the nerve pinch?" she groused. "I could've really used it about ten minutes ago."

"You would've Vulcan nerve pinched McCoy?"

"Or myself. Or both of us. You have no idea how close I came…"

"To?" I demanded.

She mumbled something.

"Gaila!"

"Going straight to enjoying him, okay?"

I frowned at her and she shifted a bit.

"I was able to resist the magical puppy magnets," she pointed out.

"That's true, but how long are you going to able to keep doing that?"

She slid her eyes to him, then back to me. "Not long."

"Then tell him how you feel," I said.

"It's scary."

"Tell me about it. I told Spock ten seconds after he told me that he thought I was crazy," I reminded her. "If I did it, you have to.

"Besides, McCoy looks at you like _that_," I pointed out, motioning over my shoulder.

We turned our gaze to the men - McCoy was staring at Gaila, his expression awestruck; Spock was…looking at Gaila, too.

What. The. Fuck?

"You're right," Gaila said, completely oblivious – she could only see her man. "I know you're right. If you can do it, so can I."

Spock was dead. D – e - some letter - d.

Gaila squeezed my hand; tears pricked my eyes.

_Oekon she's freakishly strong. _

"Thanks, Nyota."

"You're welcome," I said automatically; she released my hand and floated over to the good doctor; I stomped over to the wayward Vulcan who was still staring at her like she was a particularly intriguing flower.

_Oh buddy you are in trouble with a capital T that rhymes with G that rhymes with P that stands for penis, as in I'm not touching yours for a good long while._

_And the G is for Gaila, by the way._

Gaila giggled and pulled McCoy away from us; I bolted the remainder of my drink and fixed Spock with a death glare the likes of which the universe had never seen.

He had the audacity to look at me with a raised eyebrow.

"You -!" I started.

"Lieutenant Gaila's dress is quite familiar, Nyota," he said.

_What now?_

I slammed my mouth shut and turned in a wide circle, searching out my best friend.

_Oh._

She was wearing the dress I'd had to replace – the dress Spock had shredded in his Vulcan passion for me.

I circled back around so I could attend to Spock.

_Okay. Dizzy now._

"I thought that the dress had been…altered beyond repair," he said.

"I told you I was going to buy her a new one," I pointed out.

"I also recall that you were going to buy one for yourself," he replied.

"You were serious?" I demanded, wishing I had another cup of not-water to fortify myself.

He stepped towards me until we were standing toe-to-toe and I was craning my head back to meet his implacable gaze. He bent his head down, his lips millimeters from mine. "Yes," he said, his breath rushing out over my mouth, a maddeningly insubstantial phantom kiss.

_Breathe Nyota. Breathe, breathe, breathe. _

I held his gaze, my head swimming from the stupefying effects of alcohol and Spock.

It was almost too much to bear.

I leaned forward, aiming to kiss him soundly. In public. In front of people.

And my lips landed on empty air.

_The hell?_

He'd retreated from me, his hands behind his back, his lips pressed together in something that resembled amusement.

_Oh you're going to pay for _that _buddy._

I took a step towards him only to be blocked by Scotty. "Drink, lass?" he asked, providentially thrusting a cup in my hand. As he greeted Spock I knocked back what he'd handed me.

_Gak!_

"Put your hands over your head," Scotty prompted as I choked and sputtered and tried not to pass out.

I nodded as I struggled to keep breathing. Once the burning subsided I realized that I felt good.

Fortified.

_Bless Scotty and his magic drink._

"-rian Brandy?" I heard Spock say. "Commander Scott, that is -."

_Spock's right, the music is very loud. _

_Wonder if they have _Green Penis_ by Gaila of Orion and Starfleet._

I wiggled my hips and shuffled my feet and started to move my arms.

_Looking good, Lieutenant._

I spun towards Spock and held my hands out beseechingly. "Dance with me, baby."

He tilted his head and regarded me; Scotty stood beside him grinning like a maniac.

"Nyota, it has been some time since you imbibed intoxicating beverages…."

"I've only had two," I protested.

"Three," he corrected gently.

I frowned and held up two fingers. "Gaila made me spill some of the second one so that doesn't count."

"Perhaps you should sit down for a moment," The Tower of Vulcan Hotness prompted.

"Nuh uh," I said, "I gotta dance and you gotta dance with me."

"I do not dance," he said.

Scotty's head swiveled as he watched Spock and I banter.

"You don't have to dance," I pointed out, "Just shuffle your feet or snap your fingers."

"I do not shuffle my feet and I do not snap my fingers."

I gyrated around him, trying to induce him to dance with me. He watched me, his eyebrow raised and his arms folded across his perfect chest.

_He can't believe his girlfriend is such an amazing dancer._

"Good, huh?" I asked.

He opened his eyes wider. He was obviously stunned into silence my dancing prowess.

"Wiggle those hips!" I prompted.

"Yeah, Spock, wiggle 'em," Scotty seconded.

"I do not wiggle my hips Commander Scott," Spock said.

"Yes you do," I disagreed. "When we…."

Spock whipped his head around and I wrinkled my nose at him.

_Everybody knows we're boinking, Commander Professor._

"Well, if you're not going to dance with her," Scotty said, boogying towards me, "I'm a gonna."

I beamed at Spock and shimmied my way onto the dance floor where I started by swinging my legs and arms. Once I got the hang of that, I started snapping my fingers in time to the beat.

Scotty was swinging his arms and shaking his head. I threw my hands over my head and swung them around; Scotty mirrored me.

"You're awesome," I said to my partner. "Totally awesome."

"Back 'atcha, lass," he said, thrusting his pelvis in my general direction. I whooped and thrust back, then did a neat spin. The room kept spinning even after I stopped and that was fun, too.

I caught Spock's eye and waved; his eyes narrowed in response. I blew him a kiss.

His lips disappeared into a razor-thin line.

The music morphed, went from loud and frenetic to slow and melodic.

_No! I like the fast ones!_

Scotty's hands shot out and grasped my waist; he pulled me closer.

I chortled. It'd been a long time since I'd slow danced. Scotty shuffled me in a wide circle and smiled down at me.

And, just like that, Spock materialized at my side; his eyes were fastened frighteningly on my partner but he spoke to me. "Nyota, do you require assistance?"

"I'm okay," I said.

"Commander, I would appreciate it if you remove your hands from my mate."

_Who now?_

Scotty released my waist and stumbled backwards, his hands in the air. "I dinna mean anything by it."

"It's just a slow dance, Commander," I underscored. "Perfectly acceptable, completely appropriate."

Spock peered at me out of the corner of his eyes and my knees went a little weak.

The not-water and the '-arian brandy' had nothing on the look in Spock's eyes.

_Hot._

_Intoxicating._

_Yummy._

Scotty melted into the pulsating crowd but I barely registered his departure.

Possessive Spock.

Spock being possessive.

Spock possessing me.

Whatever way I put it, it sounded good.

"Wanna leave?" I asked, swaying forward – unable to resist Spock's magnetic body.

"Are you able to walk?" he asked.

"Would you carry me if I couldn't?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows lasciviously.

"Nyota," he said, a note of warning in his voice.

"I can walk," I said. "Not in a straight line or anything, but I can walk."

I took a step.

_Success!_

The more steps I took, the steadier I felt. We left the rec room with the pulsating music and flashy lights and into the brightly lit corridors.

"See," I pointed out. "I'm doing just fine."

"Quite," he replied.

I pirouetted just to show him I could.

_Big mistake._

"In the interest of full disclosure," I said as I tried not to fall over, "I do feel that I need to go on the record that I'd have to say no if someone asked me to drive the _Enterprise_."

"I will bear that in mind," he said, staring at me. I was able to right myself without assistance.

_No more spinning for you, Ny._

"I mean it," I persisted. "If some freak accident incapacitated everyone else, I'd just park for a few hours."

"I believe that would be for the best."

"Starfleet would _not_ be amused if I ran into a planet."

"No, they would not."

"Or another ship."

"That is also correct."

I grinned up at him. "Have I told you lately how cute you are?"

That earned me the sideways look combined with the eyebrow quirk.

_He's delicious._

_Stupid no-touching in public rule._

Spock had stopped walking. It took me longer than it should've to realize that we'd arrived at my quarters.

_Whoops._

Inside, I began tugging at my clothes.

"Nyota," he said.

I stopped wrestling with my zipper and looked at him. His hands were behind his back and he was staring evenly at me.

"What?"

"You are inebriated."

"I'm tipsy," I clarified.

"I cannot take advantage of you when you are impaired."

_Stubborn Vulcans!_

"I'm _minimally_ impaired and you _won't_ be taking advantage of me. I'm fine."

"You said you should not be allowed to pilot the _Enterprise_."

I got my dress unzipped and made sure to bend over nice and deep while sliding it off. By the time I was upright, his eyes were fastened on my breasts.

_Gaila's right, show a guy your boobs and he's yours._

_I love when she's right._

"I'm not looking to pilot the _Enterprise,_" I pointed out, "I'm looking to get a little loving from my man."

"Nyota, I do not bel-."

I held up my hand, stopping _him_ in his tracks for a change, "Spock, do you remember what you were thinking when Scotty touched me?"

He tensed, his eyes narrow and a muscle working in his cheek. "He should not have touched that which belongs to me."

I stripped off my bra, let it dangle from my fingertips for a long moment before tipping it to the floor. "You couldn't beat him senseless, but you can take that out on me."

"I would never hurt you."

_Why is this _so_ hard?_

"No, of course not – but you can mark me – take me."

_Possess me._

"You are intoxicated," he said, circling right back to the beginning of his argument – even though the conviction in his voice was dwindling and his eyes were moving restlessly over me – heels to head.

"Not so much that I can't agree to this." I took a deep breath; he watched my chest move. "Not so much that I wouldn't beg for this." I pushed my panties down and stood before him in my borrowed-from-Gaila heels. "Is that what you want, _osu_? For me to beg?"

He growled and swept me up, right out of Gaila's magic shoes, and bore me to the bed.

_Gotcha!_

His hands moved quickly as he divested himself of his clothing; I watched, shaking from need.

"We belong to each other," he said.

"Oh, yes," I said before he sucked my lips into his mouth – worried at the soft skin. Before he proved to me the truth of his words.

His kisses were possessive, his touch possessive, his _everything_ possessive. He was nipping and nibbling on whatever skin he could reach. I returned the possessiveness as best as I could – but he was stronger than me.

_And not tipsy._

My head spun, my body undulated, my voice strangled in my throat as he used his fingers to check my readiness, then his hardness to possess me utterly, completely. Absolutely.

I erupted gasping his name; his cries were muffled in the skin of my neck.

A conflagration. A shooting star.

Just another night with Spock.

He rolled off and out of me and I snuggled closer to him, kissing his chest – touching his body – something I wasn't able to do in his rampage to prove that we were each other's.

Thoroughly sweaty and completely happy, I kissed a slightly green nipple; it hardened against my tongue. Spock's hands tugged at my hair.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "Couldn't resist."

"I understand," he said. "I find myself giving into temptation frequently."

"With me," I said.

"With you," he agreed.

I folded my hands over one nipple and propped my chin on my hands. He was looking down at me as he brushed my hair away from my face.

"That was nice."

"While nice is a wholly inadequate term I will agree with you."

"I know I'm yours," I pointed out, "But I like when you remind me so forcefully."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Vulcans are very possessive of their mates."

There was that word again.

_Mate._

It had a weight and meaning to it that I wasn't ready to touch.

I squished my face down into his sweaty skin momentarily, then lifted my head to look at him again. "I didn't like that you were looking at Gaila."

"I was looking at her dress."

"See, that's not much better," I said, smiling broadly – I was mostly teasing, and I wanted him to know it.

"I will endeavor to not repeat the behavior."

"I'll hold you to that."

"I would expect nothing less," he said as his fingers moved through my hair and over my ears. "Nyota, might I re-petition you to purchase a copy of the dress Lieutenant Gaila was wearing this evening?" He was as impassive as ever, but he couldn't fool me, I could feel his heart rate pick up.

"In red," I said, remembering.

"In red," he agreed, remembering, too.


	11. Pep Talk

Warnings, disclaimers and thanks enumerated in Part One.

_**Part Eleven **__**of Thirteen:**__** Pep Talk**_

Sometimes your man will utterly surprise you. Enjoy it when it happens.

* * *

Fifty minutes before my shift – and thirty minutes before Spock's morning meeting with the Captain - I finally dragged myself out of bed and into a pair of workout pants and one of my brother's old t-shirts.

I thought about throwing up, but decided I didn't strictly need to.

I vowed to never, ever again drink something Montgomery Scott handed me.

_Never, never, never again. _

_Never._

I decided that I needed coffee and toast.

Dry.

I shuffled from the sleeping alcove to the living alcove to find Spock sitting at my table - pressed and dressed - busy with a PADD. And, on the table in front of him…coffee and toast. Breakfast.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I said; he stood.

He always stood when I entered a room.

_Amanda, you raised a gentleman._

_Thank you._

"I thought you would not wish to go to the mess for your morning meal," he said, sitting again as I shuffled on – both painfully and slowly.

"You're brilliant," I said. "And wonderful and kind…;" his hand, inhumanly fast, shot out and caught my wrist. Gently but inexorably he pulled me towards him. I looked down into his face, his depthless eyes, his grip tightened slightly.

"My Nyota," he whispered.

"My Spock."

"Indeed." He caught my waist with his free hand and pulled me onto his lap. "I wish to further discuss metaphorical spices."

I grinned down at him. "Oh really?"

"Yes," he answered, reaching around my chest to drag food and drink towards me; his arms brushed my breasts more than was strictly necessary.

I angled my body so I could reach sustenance and Spock simultaneously. I took a deep sip of coffee, a bite of toast, and then looked at him. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?"

"Are metaphorical spices one of the topics of your girl talk with Lieutenant Gaila?"

I choked on my coffee. "What?" I demanded.

"Doctor McCoy has informed me that you and Lt. Gaila engage in a phenomenon known as girl talk and I wish to know more about the topics you discuss."

I blinked stupidly at him. "That's not where I thought you were going with this."

His eyebrows drew together slightly. "What did you think I was interested in discussing?"

"The spiciness," I said, munching on the toast. "Role plays, beginner bondage, things you might want to try."

It was his turn to gaze at me. There was a long silence before he finally responded. "I wish to state unequivocally that I am content with all aspects of my life – most especially with you."

_I'm way too hung over to deal with Spock's thought processes this morning._

"Okay," I said as I sipped my coffee and waited.

_Can't wait to see where you go with _this_, Commander._

"I am not in need of diversions."

"But you enjoy them," I pointed out.

"But I do not need them."

"So we're done experimenting?" I asked, wiggling a little. "Wanna go back to things the way they were before the spiciness?"

He took a deep breath and I felt the stirring of his greenest parts beneath me.

"I did not say that," he countered.

"Because fun is fun," I whispered.

"Quite." His arms tightened and I could feel his heart starting to accelerate at my side. "And while I do not need diversions, I am not averse to experimenting."

"You are a scientist, after all," I pointed out, escalating my wiggling – his heart rate escalated, too. "You're all about experimentation."

His mouth crashed into mine and my girl parts were just as excited as his boy parts.

I wasn't about to point out that he had twenty minutes until he had to meet with Jim.

_Never say no to a quickie, Ny._

His left hand ran up my back and settled on the nape of my neck and pulled me closer. His tongue went deeper into my mouth.

The door chimed.

"We're going to ignore that," I whispered into Spock's lips.

"As you wish," he whispered back, the fingers of his right hand digging into my hips, positioning me.

"Nyota Shoekiller Uhura, I know you're in there!" Gaila shouted from outside my door. "So you need to stop whatever you're doing and get yourself presentable because I'm overriding the lock and coming in in twenty seconds."

Somehow, I ended up halfway across the room, standing even though my head was spinning and I had no real idea how I'd gotten there. Spock was standing at the table.

"You threw me," I said before I really realized that he actually had.

"I placed you," he said. "Lieutenant Gaila is most determined. It would not be seemly if she found you seated on my lap."

"You _threw_ me," I said again.

"Ten!" Gaila shouted.

"I relocated you," he replied. "Gently but with great determination."

"Zero!" Gaila shouted, and the door slid open. Her eyes slid between Spock and me. "What's going on?" she demanded as the door shut behind her.

I opened my mouth to lie, but she held her hand up. "No, never mind. I need to stay focused.

"I was up all night," she continued. "And not up all night in the fun, dirty way, but up all night because I couldn't sleep. It was awful! The pacing, the self-flagellation, and not the fun, dirty kind of self-."

"Aching head," I interrupted.

She snapped her mouth shut, took a deep breath, then said, "I looked him in the eye and couldn't do it, Ny. All I could think was that he was going to laugh at me or call me crazy or…."

"He would never laugh at you or call you crazy," I said.

"Really?" she demanded.

"He'd never laugh at you," I conceded.

"There's no guarantee and that's why I cannot look him in the face and tell him how I feel - it's too much. I don't want to do the scary thing - I just want to have sex with him. You_ can_ build a relationship on sex – it's completely possible."

"No, it's not," I interrupted. "That's not the plan. You have to stick to the plan."

"The plan's done, Ny. I've decided to just play to my strengths and, since I'm not good with the talking part, I've decided to just skip that and get right to the sex – which I am _fantastic_ at."

"No!" I said.

"Yes!" she countered.

"Gaila, no!" I said more forcefully.

"Look, Doctor Ruth," she said.

"Doctor Who?" I demanded.

"Doctor Ruth. She was a twentieth century sex therapist and relationship guru."

I stared at her.

"She was a contemporary of Kelly's."

I shook my head. Trying to deal with alien thinking was beyond the ability of my aching brain.

"What the green goodness did they _teach_ you in those Earth schools of yours?"

"I must've been absent the day they taught us about sex gurus," I said.

"Pity," she said. "Then maybe you'd understand that I am not capable of doing this and you'd stop trying to force me into it."

_Stubborn Orion._

"Lieutenant," Spock said softly.

I'd almost forgotten he was standing there watching as we debated sex gurus and talking about feelings.

"Might I offer you advice?" he continued.

Gaila and I looked at him in unison, our mouths gaping open; we glanced at each other – our faces were perfect mirrors of shock and awe – then back at Spock.

She lifted a single crimson eyebrow in perfect parody; a parody that was completely lost on Spock; he was staring at the wall over our heads.

"Sure, Commander," she said, drawing the words out.

"If you wish to build a relationship that will endure, you should tell Doctor McCoy how you feel," he intoned. "It is illogical to not provide Doctor McCoy with all the relevant information before expecting him to proceed with your," he swallowed, "relationship."

_Did Scotty add some reality-altering drug to my drink last night?_

"Uh," I said.

"Pwah," Gaila said.

Spock pinioned her with an even stare. "You disagree."

"Commander, if I tell him, he'll laugh at me."

Spock looked at me; I smiled at him.

_You started this._

"Doctor McCoy would not treat such a declaration as a joke," he said after several seconds of silence.

He was reaching and we _all _knew it.

Besides, Gaila wasn't about to give up that easily.

"No, he'd tell me I was crazy," she said.

A smirk played around her lips; I didn't have the energy to glare at her.

Besides, if my track record proved anything, it was that he just might.

Spock cleared his throat and looked searchingly at me.

I shrugged. "I'd like to hear what you think about that."

Even though I'd heard it in Oxford.

Not that I was still angry about it.

_Squirm, Vulcan. Squirm._

Mostly.

His nostrils flared and his eyes raced back to stare at the wall. "Doctor McCoy would not infer that you were insane," he said. "He has access to your medical records."

_Didn't see _that _coming._

Her mouth fell open and she gazed at him. "That's actually a good point, Commander."

He nodded sharply. "Thank you." His eyes drifted down to us again. "It is illogical to be frightened of sharing your thoughts with the person whom you profess to hold in high regard. Additionally, Doctor McCoy's behavior towards you in the recent past would indicate that he would be receptive to such thoughts."

_Whoa._

She gazed at him, hypnotized. "I think you're right."

"A careful analysis of the facts would bear that out."

"There's nothing to be afraid of," she said to herself, then she straightened and shook back her hair. "After all, a life lived in fear is a life half lived. Alar of Skorr."

_No, Lala. _Strictly Ballroom.

Spock lifted a shapely eyebrow.

He'd watched the movie with me, too.

"After all, if Ny can get a C in Subspace Geometry…"

"C plus!" I protested.

I'd worked really, really hard for that C plus.

"I can do _this_." Her shoulders relaxed; she beamed; she glowed. "I'm sticking to the plan."

"Promise?" I demanded.

"On Kelly," she said, crossing her heart. "I'm going to do this the way it's supposed to be done because Commander Spock is right, and you're right and it's going to be beyond great."

I smiled and wanted to hug her. She was so grown-up, suddenly; my little Orion.

"Sorry I interrupted your…?" she grinned as she twisted her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her toes.

"Nyota was eating breakfast," Spock said quickly.

And they say Vulcans can't lie.

"Yep. Breakfast," I confirmed.

With a side of active snuggling.

Gaila smirked at me. "Ah, breakfast. I look forward to having _breakfast_ with The Doctor." She sidled to the door. "Thanks you two. And bon appétit, Ny."

I glowered at her.

She practically skipped out the door and I turned towards Spock.

"Uh, honey?" I ventured.

He sat back down and bent over his PADD. "Lieutenant Gaila was distraught and was not responding to your," he paused, "entreaties. I believed, correctly, that she would respond to logic."

I sniffed; he looked up, his eyes…twinkling. They were damn well twinkling.

"That was impressive tap-dancing on the insanity question," I pointed out, putting my hands on my hips.

"I do not dance, Nyota."

"Oh yes you do," I disagreed. "You waltzed Gaila right into doing the correct thing."

"On the contrary, I was assisting you in your," he tilted his head, "girl talk."

"_My_ girl talk?" I questioned as I inserted myself back into his lap - we had a few more minutes of cuddle time, at least – and wrapped my arms around his neck. "You seemed to fit right in with the girl talk."

"On the contrary," he countered, abandoning the PADD and sliding his talented fingers over my arms. "I am satisfied that I would have little to contribute to such discussions in the future."

"But you did an excellent job," I pointed out as I brushed my nose back and forth along his jaw. "You're quite the relationship guru yourself, Doctor Nuth."

"I believe Lieutenant Gaila said her name was Doctor Ruth."

"Don't care," I said; I found the spot on his neck that smelled the most Spocky. I inhaled deeply.

"You and I have a successful relationship," he said.

"We do," I affirmed, trying to figure out where he was heading with this.

Darn intricate alien intellection.

"I attribute the success of our relationship to our ability to discuss matters until we reach a natural and logical conclusion. It follows that Lieutenant Gaila and Doctor McCoy would have a greater probability of success if they employ the same strategies from the outset of their relationship."

I pulled back and stared at him in awe.

"Am I in error?" he asked.

"No," I said. "You're right. You're completely right." I shook my head in amazement. "I'm impressed."

"It was a logical conclusion, Nyota. There is nothing impressive about it."

I snuggled back into the crook of his neck. "Just bask in my admiration, okay?"

"But it is undeserved."

I nipped his neck gently and his fingers tightened on my skin in response. "Bask," I ordered.

"I will bask," he said.

I snuggled closer and enjoyed the moment.

"Nyota," he said into my hair.

"Mmhmm?"

"Perhaps I did throw you."

I knew it!


	12. Double Lunch Date

I sincerely apologize for the long delay in posting this chapter. Real life (and my muse's violent crush on Robert Downey, Jr. as Tony Stark) has been kicking my ass righteously in the last six weeks. I'm back on track now. Thanks for your patience!

Thanks again to my fabulous beta, miss steph, who takes my flailing between fandoms in stride. Thanks also to my cheerleaders at Writers Anonymous; this story has taken me so long to write, three new awesome ladies have joined the madness: TeaOli, Aqua Soul Sis and Southern Scribe.

The lyrics to Gaila's newest song are taken from "Black Velvet" by David Tyson and Christopher Ward, and recorded by Alannah Myles. I do not own the lyrics and I am not profiting from their use. The comment about the Captain's, ahem, assets came from a discussion at Writer's Anonymous and were stolen from ejectingthecore who may or may not have taken them from somewhere else.

_**Part Twelve of Thirteen: Double Lunch Date**_

When you are first in a relationship you _will_ be sickening – this is one of those irrefutable laws of nature.

Another irrefutable law of nature? The sickening part doesn't last. Enjoy it while it does.

* * *

The pictures were…confounding.

I tipped my PADD around, trying to make some sense of the images.

Didn't help.

"Explain whips to me, please," I prompted Gaila as she sat down opposite of me. "It looks more owie than wowie."

"_Oekon_, I could eat a wing-slug," she announced, grabbing my plate. "I'm probably burning twenty thousand calories a day now. And, really, Ny? Owie? Wowie? You'd think you were the one getting your brains fu-."

"Stop!" I demanded. "Do not finish that sentence. I know what you've been doing with your brains recently and I don't need to hear about it."

She smiled moonily. "But it's such a nice story."

"Heard it already," I said briskly, navigating away from the scary pictures to…hmm.

_Love swings_.

"Have I told you how wonderful Len is?" she asked.

"Repeatedly," I said, the majority of my focus on the images in front of me.

_Fascinating._

"_Today_?" she demanded.

"Yes. At breakfast," I replied, finally looking at her. "And you sent me two haikus, a recording of you singing _Slow Southern-Style Sex _– which I don't _ever _needto hear again, by the way – and an email comparing him to Atticus Finch."

"He _is _like Atticus Finch, except a doctor, not a lawyer." She began eating my fruit; I squeaked at her. "He's also like Edward Cullen…except soft and warm."

"I don't need to know how soft or warm," I said.

"Well, not always _soft_," she grinned evilly before slamming her palm down on the table. "No! He's like Vampire Bill – Southern and gorgeous and gentlemanly but not, you know, semi-dead."

"I don't understand how you can read _To Kill a Mockingbird_ then read _those _books."

"The first two decades of the Twenty-First century were the epoch of Human literary development," she said; I tried to wrest my plate back, she slapped at my hands.

"That's not even close to being true and you know it," I shot back. "Why don't you get your own lunch?"

"I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"For _whom_," she corrected, grinning lasciviously as she snitched another piece of fruit and ate it more slowly than was strictly necessary in the middle of a crowded mess hall during lunch.

"I can't eat lunch with Doctor McCoy," I said, horrified.

I hadn't seen him since Steps Five and Six and, after the descriptions, emails and songs, I didn't think I'd ever be able to look him in the eye again.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I eat meals with you and Spock all the time."

"I don't share," I looked around and lowered my voice, "_details_ with you."

"Which just means that I have to create them on my own, Ny. And those images," she fanned herself. "Incendiary."

I rolled my eyes, wrested back control of my lunch and started eating.

"I can just imagine what the two of you are getting up to," she persisted. "Mice, The Commander in a belly dancer's outfit."

I snorted. "Yeah. Spock wearing bangles and a flowy skirt. It's my favorite fantasy. Thank goodness we had shore leave on Risa so I could buy the outfit."

"Ny," she whispered.

"Oh Nyota," I said, matching Spock's precise delivery, "Shall I dance for you?"

"Ny," she said more urgently.

I ignored her, on a roll now; the images were hilarious – and so much better than the ones of

Gaila and Leonard McCoy she so thoughtfully supplied me with several times a day. "We went with white because it sets his skin off beautifully. The bells are ridiculously loud, but he sure knows how to make them ring."

She shook her head once, then said, brightly and cheerfully, "Hi, Commander."

"Very funny," I said.

"Lieutenant," Spock said from near my left shoulder.

_Gah!_

"Nyota," he said as he set a tray with a bowl of soup and a salad on the table beside me.

"Hi," I said, trying not to hyperventilate; he gave me the eyebrow arch.

_Damn Vulcan super hearing_

Gaila smirked and grabbed my plate back from me; Spock began to eat his lunch; I opened and closed my mouth stupidly.

"I just wanted to thank you again, Commander," Gaila said around a mouthful of melon.

"For what, Lieutenant?" he asked, completely at ease – almost as if he hadn't just heard his girlfriend describing him dressed in flowing, filmy scarves and skirts.

_Damn Vulcan composure._

"Your advice about how to proceed with Doctor McCoy," she clarified. "You were completely correct."

"It was only logical, Lieutenant. I am pleased that following my advice appears to have been beneficial."

"_Very_ beneficial," she said, sucking pieces of fruit into her mouth in an entirely unwholesome manner.

I glared at her. Spock ignored her and kept eating.

"So very beneficial," she persisted. "Very, completely, utterly and totally bene-." She dwindled off in the midst of the word, her attention wholly focused on a point somewhere across the room.

Leonard H. McCoy must have arrived. The hormone cloud was almost visible to the naked eye.

Naked. McCoy.

Bad brain, bad.

She started to hum and my brain thoughtfully supplied the words.

_Brown eyes and that little boy's smile  
__Soft hands with that slow Southern style  
__He brings me to my knees  
__And all I can say is please_

I tried to kick her under the table but she deftly avoided the tip of my boot.

_Why can't I ever get instantaneous amnesia when I really need it? _

I closed my eyes, trying to evict the images and replace them with…

_Green penis, green penis.  
__Once you go green, you'll always be keen._

_So_ much better.

Gaila jumped to her feet as McCoy rounded the table, his eyes fastened wholly on her – an enormous smile covering his face and glowing in his eyes. She was his mirror, completely incandescent.

"Hi, sugar," she said.

He started slightly and I noticed that one of his eyebrows twitched – it was something I'd become very attuned to over the last few years, but when he said "Hi," his voice was lower and more affectionate than I'd ever heard it; then he turned his attention towards the other side of the table. "Uhura, Spock." His tone was much less tender.

"Hi, Doctor," I said, singing "The Commander and The Cadet" in my head to drown out the memory of Gaila's post-coital bragging.

Spock inclined his head and continued eating his lunch.

"So, I'm starving," McCoy said, gazing steadily at Gaila.

_The way he moves, it's a sin, so sweet and true  
Always wanting more, he leaves me longing for…._

_Damn Gaila and her catchy lyrics!_

"Oh! Me, too!" She lurched towards the door, grinning immoderately, as he took a step towards the replicator bank. "Oh, right, _food_," she said, completely unabashed.

One of his eyebrows shot up and he shot a quick glance at Spock and me; I noticed his cheeks were slightly pink. I wished I could nudge Spock because he was _not_ paying proper attention.

Gaila glanced at me. "Do you want anything? You barely ate your lunch."

I scowled at her.

She smiled innocently.

"_More _fruit, please."

"You got it, Otie," Gaila said as she and McCoy floated away.

_Behold the Power of The Flenderson on even the Relationship Dyslexic. _

I grinned at them as they walked away, then turned to share my smile with Spock; he was staring fixedly at me.

"Do you wish for me to dress in a skirt with bells for you?" he asked quietly.

"No!" I said, cursing Vulcan superpowers. "Unless you want to: I mean, we decided mutually acceptable spiciness and, well, it's not something I've ever tried – but I liked when you dressed in your licorice uniform – _really _liked it – and I guess this wouldn't be _that_ much different. I know Vulcans wear ceremonial robes and the whole "only women wear dresses" bias is Earthist and narrow-minded. So, if you want to, I can make that happen for you. I'm sure Gaila can tell me where to get a belly dancer's costume that'll fit you. You can choose the col-."

He cleared his throat and I fell silent. "I do not believe that I would find such an activity enticing," he announced.

"Oh thank _Oekon_."

"Quite."

"Of course, _I _could wear a skirt with bells."

His eyes darkened and liquefied and I could swear his breathing picked up. "And you would dance while wearing this apparel?"

"I would dance while wearing this apparel."

"That would be acceptable," he said after several long moments of heated silence.

I smiled and wished I could touch his face, his hand, his leg, his…_anything._

"Dressing up. Check," I said, feeling the blood rush to my face…and other parts of me. "It'll take a while for me to track down a costume," I said hastily, not wanting him to get his hopes up.

Unless Gaila had one hanging in her closet.

_Oh who am I kidding? She probably has a half-dozen._

"I can be exceedingly patient," he said, his eyes holding mine.

I leaned forward and dropped my voice an octave. "Because patience is logical."

"Especially as it will be well-rewarded."

My eyes dropped to his perfect bow lips. They were, as usual, parted slightly – the man never seemed to be able to close his mouth entirely – and I longed to take the curve of the upper between my teeth and lick it until I got my fill.

"I also have other ideas – surprises – planned for you," I murmured, staring at his lips.

"As ordered," Gaila announced, dumping my second fruit plate in front of me.

"Gah-aila!"

_That was some fast thinking Lieutenant._

Spock shifted away from me and straightened, looking completely calm and at ease, like I hadn't just practically devoured his mouth in the middle of lunch.

Gaila looked him over, then gave me a calculating look. "Are you okay, Nyota?"

"Fine," I said, fumbling for my drink with shaking hands. "Spectacular."

_Damn magnetic Vulcan lips._

"Humph," she said, flopping into a chair.

McCoy was standing, holding a sandwich and looking expectantly at Spock. "Well?" he demanded.

"To what are you referring?" Spock asked politely, his voice and hands steady.

"The Captain just summoned us to the Bridge. Didn't you hear the page?"

"Nyota and I were discussing a matter of some importance," he replied smoothly, standing gracefully. "It required the entirety of my attention."

McCoy shook his head and took a huge bite of his lunch. "Yeah, well fun time's over – time to go earn our paychecks." He smiled at Gaila, "I'll see you tonight, darlin'."

"I miss you already, sugar," she grinned, blowing him a kiss.

He chuckled and shook his head affectionately.

Spock nodded at me, I nodded back, and they started to wend their way through the crowd.

Gaila was staring fixedly at me; I rolled my eyes at her.

"What were you two discussing?" she demanded. "I swear it looked like you were going to start tearing each other's clothes off any second."

"Tellarite poetry."

"I know you're lying and we _will _revisit this," she said; she really could read me like one of her blood-sucker books. "But for the moment, I want you and I to enjoy poetry _in motion_."

I scrunched my eyes up at her.

"Look at our boys go," she said, waving her hand in the direction she meant for me to look.

I did.

_Wow._

"Wow."

"My thoughts exactly," she said dreamily.

I remembered to breathe and how to close my mouth and nodded.

"I could bounce a coin off Len's ass," she said conversationally.

"I don't need to hear about your kinky sex life," I said grinning. The lovely bottoms were swallowed up by the corridor.

_Show's over._

"How would you describe Spock's ass?" she prompted.

"Two, perfect, round and juicy green apples," I said without thinking.

_Damn it!_

"_Finally_," she said triumphantly, smiling blindingly and squeezing my hand until it went numb; the world went a little blurry. "For the first time ever we're in real relationships at the same time and we can talk about the wonderfulness of our men." She squeezed even harder, then released my hand.

"I talk about Spock all the time," I pointed out, shaking my hand.

She sucked in half the oxygen in the room, then blew it out explosively. "I'm not talking about the whole linguistics-Vulcan-science thing, Ny. I'm talking about _important_ stuff."

"That _is_-."

"Don't. Just don't. Okay. Lips. Len's lips are succulent – like strawberries."

"I'm sure Doctor McCoy would love to know he has fruity lips."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "He knows that I think his lips are the very epitome of lips – I tell him that all the time." Her eyes went a little unfocused, "They're such nice, nice lips – all soft and pink and just the right width – and oh, how that man can kiss. He just kind of devours me."

"I don't need to kn-."

Suddenly, her eyes snapped back into focus, "Spock's lips. Go!"

"Uhm, they're exceedingly talented," I said, stunned into honesty.

"How talented?"

I glanced around the room; shockingly no one seemed to care about our conversation. I sighed, gave in and leaned in to her. "His kisses make me dizzy for _hours_."

"Oh that's great," she said, giggling a little. "Len's an ah-_mazing_ kisser – he's got the whole blend of passion and softness _down_."

"Spock does, too," I said. "He's a natural talent."

"And those talented and deft fingers of his?" she prompted twisting an errant curl around her finger.

"They're long and slender and you know how they skim over screens? They do that even better on my skin," I said.

"The Doctor has strength and dexterity in his hands – they're like heat-seeking missiles going right to where I need them the most."

"How do they learn that?" I asked.

"Do we care?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Does The Commander's hair move, Ny? I _need_ to know."

"When the activity is strenuous enough."

She grinned broadly. "Isn't it usually?"

"There's something to be said for slow and gentle."

Her eyes dilated and drifted to the door. "That's very, very true." She drifted into whatever memory she was in momentarily, then refocused on me. "Arms," she started.

"You've seen him in a t-shirt," I pointed out quickly, "And you claim to have a photographic memory."

"Oh I do. I do. And yes, his muscles are _very _well defined."

"As are Doctor McCoy's."

"When did you see his muscles?" There was a _tone_ in her voice – protective and the tiniest bit jealous – I'd never heard before.

_She's completely gone. Truly, wholly and completely._

"In the gym at the Academy," I sighed.

"Oh. Yeah. His biceps…." She drifted off again.

I snapped my fingers in front of her face. "Have you ever noticed how they both do the one eyebrow thing?"

"I _love_ the eyebrow thing." She tried doing it and failed. "I want to learn the sardonic single arch."

"I want to learn the Vulcan nerve pinch," I added.

Stubborn Vulcan and his "Humans don't have the digital dexterity and strength necessary to execute it properly."

I'd show him digital dexterity and strength.

"Well, who doesn'twant to learn the Vulcan nerve pinch?" Gaila added. "It would come in handy in so many situations."

"Like dealing with Keenser after he and Scotty drink together."

"Or Chekov when he and Scotty drink together."

"Fending off Sulu when he thinks he's d'Artagnan."

"Or James Kirk when he _breathes_," Gaila hissed; she wasn't completely over the whole _Kobayashi Maru_thing.

"Have you ever noticed that the Captain's crotch enters the room about ten minutes before the rest of him?" I blurted out.

_Oh crap._

Gaila's mouth dropped open then she half threw herself over the table to hug me so tightly I lost sensation from my shoulders to my waist. "You have come so far, Nyota. I hope you're proud of your progress."

I tipped my head into my hands the second she let me go. "I'm going to be court-martialed one day, I just know it."

"And I'll be court-martialed right next to you," she grinned. "And then Len and The Commander can come visit us in the brig. I hear conjugal visits are very sexy."

"You would hear that," I said.

"Oh! Ears!"

"Ears what?"

"Len's ears – The Commander's ears. Compare and contrast."

"Well," I said cautiously, "Points are sexy."

"Len's ears are very sensitive," she said, sliding her fingertip around the table, tracing shapes on the plastic.

"So are Spock's."

She wiggled her eyebrows at me. "Does he like it when you suck on them?"

"Pass," I said. "Not going to talk about that."

She sighed and shook her head. "Two steps forward, one step back."

I could almost see her brain working on how she was going to wriggle the information out of me.

She really should have been an interrogator.

"My boyfriend's brain can beat your boyfriend's brain with one hand tied behind its back," I said, doing some wriggling of my own.

She scrunched up her eyes at me. "_Brain _size?"

"Brain size is very important," I said.

She stared at me in stunned silence for a moment before barking out a laugh, then staring again. "You're serious."

"Intelligence is sexy."

"I know that," she said. "And Len is _brilliant_ and a doctor and he saves _lives_ but, really, _brain_ size?"

"What else is there?" I asked.

"Oh, Nyota," she sighed, then placed her hands down on the table, sides resting against the plastic, her palms facing each other a good distance apart. A very familiar distance apart. "Spock," she said, glancing down, "If I remember your report accurately." She shifted her hands apart slightly – but significantly – and said, "McCoy."

Oh. Yes. There is _that_.

Damn Gaila and her photographic memory.

Damn McCoy and his slightly bigger – but undoubtedly less talented – penis.

"Size isn't everything," I said, rather defensively.

Gaila grinned evilly and popped a cherry in her mouth. "That's very, very true, Ny – but boy is it _something._"

_Why can't I ever get struck with temporary but total deafness? _

_Why?_


	13. Without A Net

Orion Options Online is the brainchild of the ever amazing hopeful addict; it is used here with her gracious permission. The ideas Spock espouses about why he's willing to try what Ny has proposed in this chapter come from Tales From the Spockside and are used here with _her_ gracious permission.

I regret the length of time it has taken me to complete this fic; real life became quite the taskmaster recently. I will continue to play in the Flenderson corner of the ST 'verse, but will take a little time to read fanfic and see _Iron Man 2_ fifty times before I return.

Thanks again to my support team at Writers Anonymous, my ever patient and wonderful beta, miss steph, and everyone who has joined me in this crazy story.

_**Part Thirteen of Thirteen: Without a Net**_

These are words to live by at all times: Experiment, talk, love, live, learn.  
_____________________________________________________________

"A swing," he said, _again._ His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes were fixed on the contraption hanging from a hook in the ceiling of my quarters.

"A _love_ swing," I corrected.

"I believe that a swing is traditionally used by Human children for recreation and exercise."

I planted my hands on my naked hips. "Spock, does that look like something that Human children would use?"

He continued staring at it – at the sturdy central support, the series of silky ropes and fur-lined harnesses – and said, "No."

"And I'm naked," I pointed out – because he hadn't really looked at me since arriving.

"I had noticed that, yes," he said, his attention still on the swing but his voice a little less silky than usual.

"_This_ kind of swing will allow us to experience sexual positions that would not be otherwise possible and will provide us a more comfortable sexual experience by reducing the effects of gravity."

He looked at me with tipped head and quirked eyebrow.

"Or so I'm to understand," I muttered, my hands falling to my sides.

_From the video Gaila made me watch._

_And the test she made me take._

_I got an eighty-four._

_Point five._

_She gave me partial credit on the essay question._

"So you wish to employ this swing-."

"_Love_ swing."

"In our lovemaking."

I nodded eagerly – the video made it look beyond great: Everybody was swinging and laughing and having a grand old time with their clothes _on_; I could just imagine what it was going to be like with both of us naked – then remembered our agreement and schooled my features. "But only if you want to; after all, we do have the mutual spiciness pact."

"Yes. The pact," he said, looking at my chest, then at my face, then back at the swing. "It would be a fascinating experiment."

I wasn't sure that he meant the same thing I meant.

"What do you mean by that?"

"In the influence of gravity and motion on the activity you are proposing."

_Nope. It's like we're speaking a different language._

"So you are willing to try the swing."

"As an experiment."

"And nothing else?" I chided gently. "You've been happy with the other, ahem, _experiments_ I've introduced lately."

He met my eyes; his were glittering, more black than brown. "I have."

"And so…."

"I wish to state that I am amenable to this course of experimentation."

"Oh you're _amenable_ are you?" I teased, swinging up on my toes. "You're ready to _experiment_ are you?"

"Very much so," he said.

"And how shall we proceed, _Doctor_ Spock?"

"Carefully and with great deliberation," he said, grasping my hips in his warm fingers and pulling me into his lean frame. He stared into my eyes for several heady seconds before he tipped his head, captured my mouth and proceeded to get very bossy with my lips and tongue.

Two days. It'd been two days since we'd been able to be alone for longer than a few minutes and it was very obvious that he'd felt the separation as keenly as I had.

I got bossy back at him, then started tearing at his uniform – to no avail.

"Seriously," I ground out, pulling my head away from his and concentrating on rending the cloth that was separating me from his skin, "does Kirk special order his uniforms?"

Spock's fingers had migrated to my ass, where he was swirling shapes on the sensitive underside of the cheeks; he said, "I do not understand the query."

I gave up trying to rip and started pushing at his shirt – trying to get it off of him. He didn't cooperate _at all_ – just continued along with his addictive movements.

With the willpower of my warrior ancestors, I focused and answered him. "No matter what's happening, his uniform ends up shredded and we have to see his bare chest." I suppressed a shiver – we'd all seen our captain half-naked a little too often in the recent past.

"I am at a loss as to how this is pertinent to our current activities."

"Because your stupid uniform will not come off," I growled, trying to force his arms upright. "And Kirk's will not stay on. I want to know where he gets his from so I can order a dozen. It would make things so much _easier_."

"I do not wish to discuss Captain Kirk's clothing," he said, completely ignoring my desire to strip him naked; instead, he dragged his fingers up the length of my spine and wove them into my hair; he tipped my head back. My suddenly nerveless fingers fell from his body and I stared at him. He lowered his mouth to within millimeters – fractions of millimeters – of mine and said, "I wish to kiss you again."

"O-," I got out before he swallowed the K in a languorous kiss, a deep kiss that put him in complete command of my mouth and senses; all thoughts of anyone who wasn't him fled from my head. He pressed down into my mouth, taking what he wanted from me and I murmured sounds of approval into the warm wetness of his mouth. He answered by bearing down even harder, bowing my body back over his arm, and delving into my mouth at will.

My fingers tangled in the hem of his shirt and I tried to remain both upright and conscious – two things that grew increasingly challenging as he continued exploring my mouth with breathtaking thoroughness and concentration – until he removed his lips from mine and the world tipped around me. My head spinning from the combination of his kisses and the sudden gravitational switch, I blinked stupidly at him for several seconds before realizing I was cradled in his arms.

"Uh," I said.

He raised his eyebrows at me and placed me into the swing, taking care to line me up with the harnesses and stirrups, guiding the ropes around my wrists. Finished, he stepped back.

"How'd you-?" I started, my mind spinning, my fingers tightening against the silky material that was holding me – suspending me off the floor.

Maybe he'd seen an instructional vid, too.

_My very own kinky Vulcan._

"It is a basic harness-stirrup construction," he said conversationally as he began to strip his uniform off. "Quite logical."

I nodded, concentrating all of the lovely Spock skin being exposed.

Bare, he stepped between my legs and looked me over, a calculating gleam lighting his eyes. I was completely exposed to him like this – open to whatever he could think of. Excitement and tension uncoiled in my stomach.

"Are you quite secure?" he asked and I knew he meant in the swing even though his eyes fixed on my wrists.

"Completely," I said. Surprisingly I was being completely honest – even though just a few pieces of rope and material were keeping me from falling, they felt strong and sturdy beneath my torso and around my wrists and ankles. I gripped the ropes more tightly and pulled myself up a little so I could seeall of him – feet to head. He groaned slightly. "You really do like bondage, don't you?" I teased, twisting the ropes more securely around my wrists. "Even if it's just the illusion of bondage."

"I cannot disagree with that assessment," he said as he stepped forward and wrapped his hands around my rib cage and brushed his thumbs across the undersides of my breasts.

"Kinky Spock," I grinned.

"Exquisite Nyota," he murmured.

I closed my legs around his waist, pulling him towards me, reveling in the fact that I'd gotten the height _exactly_ right – his pertinent parts were lined up neatly with mine.

His eyes darkened, hardened and he lightly dragged his nails down the length of my torso, leaving sensitized flesh in their wake; I dug my heels into his flanks, briefly wishing that I'd thought to wear heels…or my boots. Then he stepped away from me and dropped to his knees and all thought of footwear evaporated. He suckled and sucked and licked and laved until I was keening, my head thrown back, my hands digging into the ropes with such ferocity I was sure they would snap. He left me suspended at the edge, panting and pleading, and stood – utterly composed and calm, the only sign that what he'd just done had affected him the jutting and straining flesh between his legs.

"Nyota," he said, calling me to focus on his face, the hard lines, the parted lips, the melting eyes. He directed my legs up, kissing the inside of each ankle before guiding them to rest on his shoulders.

His hands roamed over my torso – cupping, flicking, pinching – until I was begging again, pleading with him in gasps and curses and whimpers; finally, when I thought I could truly take no more, he cupped his hands under my ass and pressed the harness up, pressing the soft fur into my skin and held me easily. I stared at him until he said, "You will take me," in a voice that held the authority of The Professor, the power of The Commander and, best of all, the desire of Spock.

_You betcha._

Then he moved forward and in with one endless fluid, commanding motion. My head fell back so my hair brushed the floor and I let out an endless keen. The video had been wrong because I sure as hell didn't feel like laughing. No, I felt like whimpering, moaning, screaming – but all I could do was make animal sounds of amazement as he began to move in me, taking me at an angle and depth we'd never achieved before.

The friction of him inside me, the slip of the silk, the brushing of the fur all served to pitch me higher.

_Ah! Bigger, bigger, more, more, I can't, I can, I am, goodgoodgood…._

And he was growing impossibly bigger, harder, moremoremoremore until, howling, _howling, _a formless sound of pleasure he filled me more than he ever had before. I mewled and shattered into bits of stardust.

I was still swinging gently when I was aware again. Spock was still buried inside me, his fingers gripping my hips, his eyes fixed on my face. I could feel him dwindling inside my still-pulsing heat; I tightened around him, refusing to let him leave my body. He pulled me up and out of the swing and collapsed to the floor with me on top of him; he was all angles and bone and hard muscle and he broke my fall, not cushioned it.

"My Nyota," he said, kissing my forehead. "My Nyota;" but I would have none of that – of gentle kisses - I was _starving_ for his mouth. The swing was wonderful and amazing, but it didn't allow for kissing and I adored kissing him. I yanked his lips to mine, tasting and touching every millimeter of the delectable flesh.

I twined my arms and legs around him, holding him close, holding him inside – dwindled but still warm and wonderful – of me as his fingers reached for my pulse points. I leaned into his fingers and fell into his mind – a glowing, shining place – all pink and gold.

I gasped, my mouth falling away from his. _This _was so clear, so intimate – I didn't need anything else at the moment.

_Wow,_ I ventured.

_Imprecise but accurate,_ he replied.

_Wow! _I said again, and his form of laughter swirled around me in sparkling curlicues. I floated amongst them for a long while, basking in the vibrations that sparked between us. _I think I had an out of body experience that time._

_It was a most enjoyable experience._

_A palatable spice?_

_In a manner of speaking,_ he said.

_Or thinking,_ I joked.

There were more curlicues.

_This item belongs to Lieutenant Gaila?_

_She cleaned it. Thoroughly, _I clarified. _And so did I. Several times._

_I trust that you would have done so,_ he said, practically interrupting. _I was merely querying as to the ownership, not the cleanliness, of the item._

_Oh. OH! You liked it. You want one for our very own._

_It was a most…useful item._

I preened – a little aqua color bleeding into our shared consciousness.

_I would not be adverse to using a similar item in the future._

I preened even more. _So, you've been a fan of _all _of the spices I've wanted you to try._

_I cannot dispute that._

_I love it when I'm right._

In this place, wryness evidenced as tan streaks – even his _words_ were tan – as he said, _The experiments have been fascinating._

_Just admit I was right._

_I am not disagreeing with you._

Say_ it, Spock. Say the words: Nyota was right._

Pink and tan from him – aqua from me.

_Nyota, I wish to share something with you._

_Is it about how right I was? How right I _am_? How right I always will be? How you're in awe of my complete and utter rightne…._

_I am…happy,_ he said, interrupting again.

And that stopped me.

_Happy?_ I said. _Happy?_

_Yes_, he said simply.

_I didn't know you could say that word – even in your head._

There were waves and curlicues, more Vulcan laughter. _I am permitted certain freedoms here that I am not elsewhere. As you have said, there is only you and I here._

_And here you're happy._

_Infinitely so._

_Because I'm smart and spicy and loving and wonderful and…_

_All of those things and many more,_ he said,

_And right. I'm so very, very right._

There was a hot-pink tinge – amusement. _Nyota, you can be very challenging._

I added my own hot-pink tinge,_ I like that you are happy. I'm happy, too – sickeningly so. I don't things could be more perfect than they are right now. _

_You do not?_

_How could they be?_ I asked, because I really couldn't fathom anything better than simply being with him.

There was a pause, like a sudden gust of wind, and there was a subtle change in our place – some of the bright colors bled a little, softening and fading.

_Spock?_

He gently withdrew.

I blinked and pulled myself back into the room and focused on his face. "What?"

His eyes flickered over me for a moment and, if I didn't know better, I would've sworn I'd seen disappointment in them – then he snapped back to his usual, composed self. "I was experiencing physical discomfort."

I shifted, finally releasing him from my body and sliding off of him so I could lie plastered next to him, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, my left leg thrown over his thighs. "Better?"

"Very much so."

I kissed the skin beneath my mouth, then shifted again, situating myself so I could see his face. "I'm happy that you are happy."

"I am pleased that you are also content."

"Sickeningly so," I clarified, snuggling into his chest, breathing deeply for a blissful second before I remembered that look on his face. I looked at him searchingly, but there was no indication that he was discomfited. Still…the withdrawal, the _look_. "You're sure there's nothing else you want from me?"

_What the _hell_ are you doing, Nyota Shoekiller Uhura?_

Even my _subconscious _sounded like Gaila.

_I know what I'm doing. Don't worry. I need to make sure everything's okay._

_Let him be. Don't push this! Girl, do not mess this up!_

_I won't!_

"Perhaps an experiment, a spiciness if you will, with clothing suitable for a performer of a specific variety," he said after several seconds of silence.

All was well – I _had_ imagined the disappointment.

"If you mean a dancing girl's outfit," I grinned, "I ordered it yesterday - ."

_Thank you, Orion Options Online._

"I look forward to that experiment."

"And I was thinking I might add one of these to the order." I tipped my head back and looked at the apparatus swaying gently above our heads. "I can get Gaila to hack into the order and update it – everything should arrive at the same time."

"While I cannot condone such an action, I must confess that I look forward to the delivery of your order."

I snuggled closer to him, trying to soak up his body heat. "Me, too. So, you're happy, huh?" I asked.

His arms tightened around me and he kissed my hair, "Completely."

_Doctor Flenderson, you rock. Monogamy rocks._ Spock_ rocks! _

_~~The story will continue~~_


End file.
